


New Life, New Family

by kaze_chan



Series: Second Chances [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Foster Care System, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Athos, Kid Fic, Mental Breakdown, Middle-Aged Ninon, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Teen Aramis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-19 23:50:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 54,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3628830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaze_chan/pseuds/kaze_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU with age changes: On a routine investigation, Porthos comes across a five year old boy, much in need of a caring home. Having already taken in a runaway teen five years ago, Porthos decides to take the young boy into his care, saving him from the foster care system. As the three of them start to learn how to live as a family, old and new emotional scars are ripped open to bleed anew. Can Porthos, Aramis and Athos overcome their past trauma, and finally put to rest the ghosts that haunt them day and night? </p><p>*Warning* lots of emotional trauma/hurt/comfort and some physical abuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porthos frowned as he tore his gaze from Olivier to stare at his Captain. “Captain we can’t do that to him.” Both he and Aramis (he assumed) had gone through the foster care system for some time and he didn’t think a child with Olivier’s apparent trust issues would do well in the ever changing environment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first ever Musketeers fanfiction, and first ever work not in it's original setting. This started with one little scene between Porthos and Aramis and exploded from there. Thank you for taking the time to read and thanks in advance for any feedback.
> 
> **Warning*** this entire story is based on emotional/physical trauma/abuse towards a 11 year old and a 5 year, and it does go into some detail.

Normally Porthos didn’t respond to these types of calls but Captain Treville called him to the scene. Pulling up to the house, he could already see the swarms of police officers going in and out of the residence collecting evidence, the investigation already in full swing. He quickly sent a texte to Aramis telling him he would be home late and not to wait up for him, although he knew perfectly well the teen wouldn’t be sleeping no matter how late he got in.

It was strange how quickly his life had change 5 years ago when he had taken in the twelve-year-old boy off the streets. The whole precinct thought he was nuts taking in a runaway but Porthos himself knew all too well the harshness of life on the streets and didn’t wish it on anyone. Things had been tense in the first few months but eventually the two had learned to live together and rely on one another.

Taking the porch steps two at a time, Porthos made his way towards his captain, “sir, you wanted to see me?” He made no attempt to hide his confusion. This was a domestic dispute call that led to a lowly drug dealer in possession; hardly requiring a homicide detective.

Captain Treville looked around the room at the men doing their job before answering. “The man we arrested is being held on drug charges. But there should be a child living with him; a five year old boy named Olivier. Our search so far as turned up nothing and the man in question is not very cooperative. I want you to do a full sweep. If he’s here, find him.” Porthos nodded his understanding. 

It was no secret that Porthos’ upbringing on the streets had given him a very unique set of skills. There was nothing he couldn’t find or track and no one in the precinct could get into the mind of a thief or track down a murderer better then him. Sometimes he wondered what the others must think, but then just as quickly he realized that he didn’t care. He had earned his place in the precinct. 

He made a quick pass of every room to get the basic layout of the house on both floors and then went to work. The police offers were all mostly on the first floor and the basement. When the first officer responded to the call of a domestic disturbance, the man had become agitated and violent, leading to his arrest. Inside the home they had found a large amount of drugs. The neighbors who called told the officers that he could hear the man arguing with the boy and was concerned.

Seeing all the activity on the first floor, Porthos doubted that a five year old could be hiding somewhere there and still not be seen. Instead, he headed towards the quieter upstairs.

Pausing at the top of the staircase, Porthos wondered how loud the argument had to have been for the neighbors to be concerned; an argument, he reminded himself, between a grown adult and a child. Something didn’t feel right and he forced that growing uneasiness down, instead concentrating on his search.

One of the bedroom looked like belong to a child and Porthos took in the messy state of it. There was a pile of clothes that looked like it had seen better days and even the dresser and bed looked to be in poor condition. This room lacked the bright colors that normally accompanied a child’s room. That uneasiness in the pit of his stomach grew as he noticed a small latch fitted to the outside doorframe, clearly worn out from regular use. 

Porthos stood in the doorway of the room, thinking. He had already peered into the open closet door to find it empty but something kept bringing his attention back to it. “What am I missing.” he growled to himself. “Where would I hide.”

Finally noticing that the closet seemed smaller than the space would suggest, Porthos headed to the room beside it, opening its closet door. Sure enough this space was also smaller than it probably should be. Tapping lightly on the interior walls, he found the back wall to be hollow. After pushing aside the boxes stored there he searched but couldn’t find anything unusual and so he headed back to the boy’s room.

“Found something?” Treville asked from the staircase as he watched the younger man disappear into a room.

“Maybe,” was the only reply he got. He followed Porthos into the room and watched as the other man searched the closet. He himself had order the complete search of the house, from top to bottom but that had come up empty. With a soft click, the back panel of the closet swung open revealing a ladder straight up to the attic. 

Glancing back towards his captain, Porthos crawled into the smaller space and headed up the ladder. His large frame made it difficult but he managed to reach the top, breathing in the cold dusty air. Cautiously, he peered into the darkness waiting for his eyes to adjust.

“Here.” Glancing down, Porthos took the flashlight from Treville and switched it on, sweeping the attic from one side to the other. Boxes where stalked randomly, covered by dust as if long forgotten. A string of mumbles curse escaped him as the light beam fell on the small shape huddle by the chimney bricks on the far side; he had nearly missed him.

“He’s up here.” Porthos whispered to his captain, frowning at the lack of response from the small boy. The silence seemed to close in around him as he kept his eyes and the flashlight on the small boy. He could hear Treville calling for paramedics from bellow him as the boy just held himself tighter. “Hi Olivier, my name is Porthos.” He spoke softly lifting himself further up into the attic. “I’m a police officer.” The small huddle shrank back further, as if hoping he could disappear in the masonry. 

Slowly, Porthos pulled himself into the attic, his gaze and flashlight never leaving its target. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked and a new wave of uneasiness washed over him as he examined what little he could see. The jeans were torn around the knees and the t-shirt the boy wore was far too large for his small frame, the neckline dipping down one shoulder. “Olivier? Are you alright?” He glanced down the ladder to see Treville staring back at him. “Captain, somethin’s wrong.” 

Sensing the worry in the younger man’s voice, Treville slowly made his way up the ladder to examine the situation himself. Once at the top, he eyes fell on the small form, still tightly huddled by the wall, the disheveled hair still hiding the small face from view. Crouched low on all fours, Porthos inched his way closer, making sure to distribute his weight so as not the crash through the ceiling, vaguely aware of the protesting cross beams. 

“ I’m coming to see ya, alright?” He spoke softly, watching for any reaction from the boy. When nothing happened he crept closer. “We’ve been looking all over for you. Looks like you found yourself the greatest hiding place of all, yeah?” He stopped just a foot away. 

From this close he could hear the boys’ heavy breathing and the slight shivers that ran through his entire body. He also noticed how cold it was up here, having no isolation to protect the attic from the cool evening. 

“How about we go back down, and get warmed up a little. Does that sound like a good idea to you?” The question had the desired effect as the boy’s head lifted a little and dark blue eyes peered out at him from behind one of the small arms. 

In the shadowy light from the flashlight, Porthos thought he could see what looked like bruises forming on the right side of the boy’s face near his eye. “I don’t know about you, but I’m think my fingers might freeze off.” Porthos continued talking now that he had the boy’s attention. “What do you think?” Porthos held out a hand to show him. Though he moved slowly, the small boy instantly flinched and ducked back into himself as if expecting a punch.

Porthos knew that reaction and what it meant; he had seen that same reaction in Aramis in that first year. “I’m not going to hurt you, Olivier. I promise.” The soft words lingered in the silence as Porthos watched the small shivering huddle. 

Finally the boy lifted his head to stare back.

“Here, take my hand and I’ll help you down, alright?” He kept his hand out towards the boy and smiled. Porthos knew that he had to wait for him to make a move first. He was like a scared animal; skittish and jumpy, just trying to hide. He hated seeing that look in eyes that where far too young to know such pain.

Olivier stared at Porthos, first at his outstretched hand then meeting his eyes. Finally, ever so slowly the small boy reached his right hand towards Porthos. Allowing his smile to widen, Porthos easily wrapped his larger hand around the smaller hand, doing his best to ignore how cold it was or how much it shook.

“There we are.” Porthos offered his other hand to help steady the small child, purposely keeping his movements slow and easy. 

Porthos’ tried not to frown as Olivier slightly shied away from the second offered hand. Though still holding onto Porthos with his right hand, he kept his left arm clutched tightly to his chest, as if trying to hide it from view. 

Deciding it was probably best not to draw attention to it for the moment, Porthos continued his easy commentary, instead shifting the boy’s focus. “That’s Captain Treville. He has a mustache that looks like a catapiller.” Treville smiled, fully understanding the meaning behind the comment, internally grateful for the other man’s easy nature.

The boy stared passed him to the man in question before turning his attention back to Porthos. “Ready little buddy?” 

With a small nod from the boy, they made their way back towards the ladder, Porthos crawling backwards awkwardly while still holding the boys small hand. Once back at the top of the ladder, Porthos glanced down, watching as Treville crawled out of the tinny space and back into the room.

“Alright Olivier, Captain Treville is waiting at the bottom for you.” The small hand closed more tightly around his fingers. “It’s alright; I’ll be right behind you. I promise.” With a slight nod, Olivier moved towards the trapped door and stared down, albeit slowly due to his reluctance to use his left arm. Treville seemed to have noticed the same thing by the time the small child reached the bottom rung.

When he did reach the bottom, Olivier stood in place, small face looking up waiting for Porthos. As quickly as he could, Porthos swung himself down the ladder, once again maneuvering his broader shoulders in the smaller space.

As he got near the bottom, he could feel Olivier’s small hand clutching at his pants. “Alright buddy, you got to give me some room to get out.” The small hand just held tighter. Sighing in resignation, Porthos instead concentrated on getting himself down in the small space while not crushing Olivier in the process. 

Olivier remained at the bottom of the ladder, his wide eyes roaming over what was visible of the bedroom. Treville stood closest to the closet door trying to coax him out, while the paramedics waited just behind him. When it became obvious that the boy wasn’t going anywhere, he decided instead to just wait.

Somehow, Porthos didn’t know how, he managed to not only get to the bottom but to also crawl out the small trap door with Olivier clutched to his leg. Holding out his hand again, Porthos was happy to see the small hand grip his fingers without hesitation.

As he backed out of the closet, leading the small boy along with him, he chanced a glance towards his superior. Olivier tensed as he stepped out of the closet and got his first real look at the strangers that now littered his bedroom. Uncertainty and fear flooded over him and he couldn’t stop the tremors that worked his way down his arms as the room swam in and out of focus.

Porthos felt the arm pull back as the boy took a small step back towards the safety of the closet. “Hey, hey it’s okay, they’re here to help.” Before he could think twice about it, Porthos wrapped his arms around the boy, pulling him into a warm embrace and hoping it would be enough to calm the building panic attack. 

At first there was no reaction but slowly Porthos could feel the small weight push against his chest and Olivier’s face burrowed into his shoulder. He waited as the panic breathes calmed and the boy seemed to relax.

“There, now that’s better. How about you an’ me go for a little ride. These are my friends and they’re going to take us to the hospital, alright?” 

The only acknowledgement he got was a small nod against his shoulder. Slowly shifting Olivier to get a better hold of him, Porthos got to his feet still cradling the small boy in his arms, his face challenging either paramedic do tell him otherwise.

“I think that’s a great idea Officer du Vallon and it seems your small friend agrees. Hi, my name’s André. ” The paramedic’s agreement and soft voice gained him a partial glance before Olivier once again buried his face in the older man’s shoulder.

“I’ll check in on you later on.” Treville dismissed.

Nodding to his captain, Porthos turned and followed the EMTs to the waiting ambulance outside. Between himself and André, they kept an easy commentary, slowly coaxing the small huddle to unfold himself. André constantly encouraged Olivier every time he would allow the medic to assess him. By the time they reached the hospital, Porthos had to take long deep breath to calm his own growing anger. The poor kid was covered in bruises and the arm looked like it was broken, the limb having swollen and greatly discolored.

Once Olivier had calmed and settled down in the warm blankets, sleep finally claimed him. Porthos slowly lifted himself from the side of the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping boy and sank down heavily into a chair nearby, finally allowing his own exhaustion to show. Closing his eyes, he scrubbed a hand across his face trying to mentally collect himself. 

Since they left the house, Olivier refused to let go of Porthos’s hand and the older man, in all honesty, was equally as hesitant. Porthos had put on his best smile, constantly reassuring the child that everything was alright and that he would be fine. Now that those piercing blue eyes had finally closed, Portho’ carefully guarded expression began to slip, his own exhaustion seeping through.

Three cracked ribs, a concussion, bruises, abrasions, malnourishment and a broken left arm. Luckily when the arm was broken, it hadn’t stopped the blood flow and so the limb would heal properly without complications. It was a true testament to the kid’s character, though, that despite all that he was still awake and alert when they had finally found him. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen to Olivier now but Porthos was determined to stay with him until they knew. 

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him awake; he hadn’t noticed when he fell asleep. Pulling the phone out, he glanced down at the text from Aramis. He only now noticed it was 2:30 in the morning.

[Where are you?]

He had completely forgotten about the teen and flipped the phone open to answer.

[Sorry, I’m fine. Long story but I’m at the hospital with a five year old, waiting for Captain Treville. Not sure how long it’ll be.]

Now that he thought of it, where was Captain Treville. It had already been 4 hours since they left the house, he would have thought the Captain would have sent him a message by now. The screen lit up again as the phone buzzed in his hand.

[Do you need anything?]

Porthos grinned. Trust Aramis to always be thinking about everyone else. Soft footsteps echoed down the corridor and Porthos instinctually looked over his shoulder to see who was approaching.

Captain Treville stopped in the door frame, not wanting to wake the sleeping child he motioned for Porthos to join him in the hall. As softy as possible, he carefully deposited the duffle bag he was carrying on one of the empty chairs inside the room before meeting Porthos in the hall just outside.

“How is he?” 

Porthos stretched his shoulders, trying to work out the stiffness. “As good as can be expected I suppose. He’s pretty beat up Captain.” 

Captain Treville continued to eye the small huddle of blankets on the bed. When his eyes finally traced over his officer, he notice the tired slump in his shoulders. “Go home and get some sleep Porthos, I’ll stay with him.”

He couldn’t deny he was tired but he also didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye; he had promised the kid he would be here when he woke up. “If it’s all the same to you Captain, I’d like to stay till he wakes up.” 

Captain Treville nodded, a small smile gracing his face. “I assumed you’d say that.” Turning to face the younger man, his tone took on a more serious note. “We did a background check and the kid has no other family member that could take him in while we sort all this out and so he’s going to have to go into foster care for the time being.” 

Porthos frowned as he tore his gaze from Olivier to stare at his Captain. “Captain we can’t do that to him.” Both he and Aramis (he assumed) had gone through the foster care system for some time and he didn’t think a child with Olivier’s apparent trust issues would do well in the ever changing environment. 

“There is one other option, Porthos,” Treville smiled warmly at his officer.


	2. Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pothos considered his answer carefully. “Yes and no; you were older and very vocal about everything but yes, you were still skittish.” He remembered all those times during that first year when he had learned to maneuver around Aramis. “You, my friend, were a flight risk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the views and the kudos, they are greatly appreciated. Don't worry, Aramis appears in this chapter. All errors or typos are my own.

“Aramis, I’m back!”

The teen instantly dropped the book he had been pretending to read and made his way to the front door. “Porthos what’s going on? Where have …..” He stopped mid-sentence as his gaze fell on a small shape hiding behind the older man’s leg. “Well hello there.” 

Olivier peered out from around Porthos’ leg, taking in the teen’s disheveled appearance. Aramis stared back, his eyes roaming over the dark bruising on the side of the boy’s face.

“Olivier, this is Aramis. Aramis, Olivier.” Slowly, Porthos handed the duffle bag he’d been carrying to Aramis and extricated his leg from the small grip. “Olivier’s going to be staying with us for a little while.” Aramis tore his gaze away from the small face to stare at Porthos, a million and one questions on his mind but thankfully he had enough sense to wait till later. 

Porthos gently pulled off first his coat, hanging it on the hooks at the entrance before bending down to do the same for the child. As the coat was pulled away from the shoulders, Aramis noticed the cast around the small arm, held tightly to his chest in a sling. A hundred more questions sprung to mind as he took in more of the child’s appearance. 

Deep purple bruises marred the side of his face, while the left arm remained protectively hidden in the sling, but what caught the teen’s attention was the look of fear in those deep blue eyes. Aramis knew that look all too well that such a deep rooted fear came from bad experience and the teen shuddered at the thought of what this boy must have been through.

Putting the bag down by his feet, Aramis slowly closed the distant between them. “Welcome home then Olivier. You’re just in time for lunch.” He crouched down to be at eye level with him, ever mindful of the way Olivier stepped back in reaction. “How about some chicken noodle soup and a grilled cheese? That’s my favorite.”

Porthos could see the tension in Olivier’s shoulders drop slightly as he nodded and he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He had no idea how Olivier was going to react to Aramis or vice versa but Aramis had the kind of personality that everyone trusted and loved. That charming grin of his could get him out of almost anything and it seemed that Olivier wasn’t immune to it. This might just work out after all.

The first few days, however, were a testament of their patience. 

Olivier clung to the walls, doing his best to stay out of the way or disappear, Porthos wasn’t sure which. He jumped at any sudden movement or sound, and they would always find him in the mornings curled up in a pile of blankets in the closet.

Their apartment had three rooms already so that was a bonus, though the spare one was currently being used as a storage area. Since Aramis barely slept to begin with, he had insisted Olivier take his room while they sorted out the mess and turned it into a real bedroom. 

They found it hard to see such a small boy with so many bruises and wanted nothing more than to hold him close. Porthos had learned early on that Aramis was a very tactile person, always needing a reassuring touch to keep him grounded. But Olivier normally kept himself just out of arms reach out of instinct. On a few rare occasions Aramis had managed to wrap his arms around the small shoulders, despite the tense response he got.

“Let me help you.” Porthos finally offered the boy after the tenth failed attempt at tying his shoes. His ribs still hurt and the cast on his arms made the small task rather impossible. Porthos waited till Olivier nodded his consent before moving closer, crouching down on one knee in front of the boy. 

They had also learned that Olivier was very independent, even for a young age. He didn’t ask anyone’s help for anything, preferring instead to push on despite to strain it caused his ribs or is bruised muscles, but they also assumed this might have something to do with his neglected upbringing. 

Olivier watched the older man’s movements carefully. He sat perfectly still as Porthos tied first one shoe then the second. As far as he could remember letting anyone this close to him meant pain. His smaller size had some advantages tough, he could always crawl into smaller space to escape. When Porthos stood back up, he offered his hand to Olivier to help him up. After a few second’s consideration, Oliver took it and allowed Porthos to pull him to his feet, albeit gingerly.

“Alright, you ready to go?” Bright blue eyes searched his face from behind a mop of brown hair. Eventually, he gave a slight nod and stepped aside to allow the older man to pull the door open. They headed out to the car, with Olivier barely flinching as Porthos leaned over him to buckle the seat belt. That’s progress.

Ten minutes later they were sitting in a very expensive waiting room, watching the news reel with unfocused eyes. This was their first appointment with the child psychiatrist and Pothos was doing everything possible to keeping his anxiety from seeping through; burying his hands in his pockets just to keep them from shaking.

Olivier, on the other hand, was a ball of nerves. His gaze constantly scanned then room, from the door to the secretary behind the desk and then to the second door. He was all but shaking by the time they were called in.

“It’s alright buddy. We’re just going to have a little chat with the nice lady, that’s all.” Porthos plastered on his most reassuring smile, pushing down any of his own fears. Feeling the small hand securely wrapped in his own, he lead Olivier into the office.

A middle aged woman with grey hair flowing down her shoulders greeted them inside.

“Mr. Du Vallon, hello. I’m Dr de Larroque.” He shook her extended hand. “And this must be Olivier.” She crouched down to be at eye level with the boy, completely unfazed by the fact that the boy in question was currently hiding behind Porthos’ leg. “I’m so happy you’re here and that I get to meet you.” 

She waited patiently until the pair of blue eyes peered out to meet hers. Rising to her full height, she once again eyed Porthos, making him feel like a school boy being scolded by a teacher, before gesturing to the chairs near the desk.

For a second, Porthos was taken aback back this woman’s presence. Her stance and even the way she walked showed confidence and spirit. Old age had not taken away any of her natural beauty and as far as first impressions went, she was nothing like any of the other psychiatrist he had ever met. 

Porthos made sure Olivier was sitting comfortably before taking his own seat, still holding tight to Olivier’s uncasted hand.

From across the desk, Dr. de Larroque watched them with curiosity. When this case had been given to her from child services and she had had the time to read over all the notes, she had more than a few choice words for them. 

Olivier should have been placed with a foster family who has the training to deal with a child who has suffered such trauma. Instead, she finds that he was taken in by a police officer, who himself is an orphan, and is currently living with a runaway teen. That kind of environment can hardly be beneficial to the child’s recovery. 

“Mr. Du Vallon, this is the only session in which you will be allowed to join us except for our once a month family sessions.” She fixed him with her gaze to ensure he understood. She then gestured to someone near the door. Her gaze softened dramatically as she turned her attention to the small boy. “Olivier this is Thérèse.” Olivier shifted slightly to be able to see the young girl as she approached, a warm and wide smile gracing her features. 

Porthos could feel Olivier’s hand gripping more tightly to his, his breath coming in fast gasps.

“Olivier,” Dr. de Larroque’s voice cut in before Porthos could say anything. Once again she waited patiently until the child turned to look at her. “You and Thérèse are just going to sit at that table over there while Porthos and I talk.” She pointed to a second set of chairs gathered around a smaller table of to the left. Both Porthos and Olivier turned to look in that direction. Slowly, Olivier shifted his gaze back to Dr. de Larroque, who smiled warmly in return, and then to Thérèse. With a little encouragement from Porthos, he slid of his chair and headed towards the chairs, always keeping a large distance between himself and Thérèse. Once at the table, Porthos wasn’t surprised to see Olivier choose the chair which gave him the best line of sight of the door and Porthos.

Once they were seated, Porthos turned his attention back to the Dr. in front of him. She eyed him curiously and once again he was feeling as if he was being scolded by a school teacher.

“Mr. du Vallon, understand that my first and foremost priority is Olivier. I’ll be honest with you, I do not believe that being placed in your care was the right decision,” She glanced back towards the table where Thérèse was asking Olivier questions to test his aptitude, before returning her gaze to meet Porthos’ “however I am willing to reconsider. He seems to have taken to you and trusts you.” 

Porthos didn’t know how to respond. Though he had been more than happy when Treville had asked him to take Olivier in, he had wondered why child services had allowed it. It was hardly the ideal household and neither Porthos nor Aramis had the training to deal with someone like Olivier. It wasn’t until a week later that his Captain informed him of the conditions of the current living arrangements.

Olivier had to see Dr de Larroque once a week alone and once a month, there was a family session in which Porthos and Aramis were to attend. Aramis had not been informed of this yet and Porthos really didn’t know how the teen would react. Any previous mention of child services had Aramis practically leaping out of the window. He really didn’t know how he was going to tell Aramis.

“Thank you.” He knew it sounded odd but Porthos really couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

Dr. de Larroque studied him again curiously, knitting her fingers together beneath her chin. “We’ll see.” She cast a glance over to Thérèse, noticing the young girl had finished with her task. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have a chat with our small friend.”

Porthos watched as Dr. de Larroque strode across the room to take Thérèse’s place at the small table. Olivier, for his part, watched the exchange wearily and cast a glance towards Porthos looking for reassurance. The older man smiled warmly nodding to the child hoping to ease the growing panic in his eyes. 

“He’s a very brave boy, monsieur du Vallon.” Porthos barely acknowledge the assistant, his entire focus was on the table across the room. 

Dr. de Larroque noticed every move the boy made, from the flinches to the building panic attacks. On the whole he was still functioning well enough but anyone could see the lasting trauma in the child’s eyes. “Hello again.” She smiled warmly, noticing Olivier indecision as his eyes focused entirely on her, studying her. “You can call me Ninon if you’d like.” 

She was well aware of Porthos watching them from across the room and the way Olivier’s eyes constantly strayed back to the older man, as if he was afraid to be left behind.

“Olivier, I have something to ask you.” She patiently waited till those deep blue eyes shifted back to her. Taking a piece of paper from the table, she handed it to the child. “For our next visit, I want you to draw the thing you love the most in the whole world.” She could see the breaths coming in sharper as he eyed the blank paper in her hand. “It’s alright, take all the time you need. And you can draw anything you like.”

After considering her answer, Olivier slowly reached out and took the paper from her. She motioned towards Porthos and just as quickly Olivier was out of his chair. Porthos easily scooped the small child up into his arms, and Olivier wrapped his arms arround Porthos’ neck tightly.

They were adjusting.

The rest of the day, Porthos noticed that Olivier seemed to be following him around the house. But not just that, the kid was now always within arm’s reach. A few times Porthos nearly tripped in him. 

“Sorry buddy.” Olivier stared up at the older man from behind his mop of brown hair, those blue eyes watching his every move. Porthos stepped around him to fill a pot with water, noticing how Olivier was stretching on his toes to see what he was doing.

“Here, I’ve got ‘n idea.” Putting down the pot, Porthos pulled one of the kitchen chairs towards the counter till it was flush with the cupboards. Then, very slowly, he leaned down to pick up Olivier to stand him up on the chair. 

“There ya go. Now you can see what’s going on better.” Olivier stared around from his newer vantage point, a small smile ghosting across his features. He watched Porthos make the sauce and the then the noodle. The older man kept up a constant commentary of what he was doing and Olivier just seemed to be taking it all in, his curious gaze following every movement.

When Aramis got home, however, Porthos could visibly see Olivier close in on himself, retreating back behind his protective walls. He was subdue and careful the rest of the evening, eying Aramis wearily and once again doing his best to disappear in the background. 

“Was it like this when I moved in?” Aramis finally asked once Olivier had gone to bed. “Tell me I wasn’t that …. skittish.”

Pothos considered his answer carefully. “Yes and no; you were older and very vocal about everything but yes, you were still skittish.” He remembered all those times during that first year when he had learned to maneuver around Aramis. “You, my friend, were a flight risk.”

A quick glance at the teen sitting on the couch told him that he had just figured that out for himself. His brow knitted together as his fingers combed through his hair trying to remember the first few months.

“Don’t worry about it ‘Mis. Just give him time, he’ll come around.”Aramis simply nodded to show Porthos he had heard him, but he still had that feeling of uneasiness.

Porthos quickly noticed the lack of response from the teen. He watched Aramis’ hand rake through his tuff of curls for a second longer before heading towards the living room and sinking into the reclining chair. 

“Hey.” It took a few seconds longer than it should have to get Arami’s attention. Porthos waited till those faded brown eyes focused on him, his mind returning to the present. “He’s been through a lot and we just need to show him we’re there for him.” Aramis smiled then; trust Porthos to always know what to say and when.

“I know, I just wished there was something more I could do. He trust you but he’s scared of me.”

“Just give it time.”

Nothing seemed to change in the next few days. Olivier was slightly more trusting with Porthos but would pull back the second Aramis was around. Porthos did his best to comfort Aramis, telling him it was just a matter of time. But he truth was, he was getting just as concerned. 

When Aramis had come to live with him, Porthos hadn’t known what to expect. Aramis could be happy and smiling one moment and then the next would be shouting. The outbursts would never last long and then the smile would return and all would be forgotten. Over the next few months, the outbursts became less frequent and less sporadic. Though he never spoke of his past, he would voice his feelings loud and clear. He was, still is, a flight risk. On more than one occasion, Aramis had stormed off in the middle of n argument only to turn up the next day looking sheepishly.

Olivier, on the other hand, was quiet and most times could not even make eye contact with either of them. He visibly flinched at the use of his name and had yet to say anything. Where Aramis was a cornered tigger ready to pounce, Olivier was a scared trembling puppy. The experience was nearly the exact opposite to what he had lived through with Aramis and Porthos didn’t know what else to try. 

***  
He could hear the screams echoing through the house and ever muscle in his body jerked at the sound of the gunshots. He knew he should run but he was frozen in place, his legs refusing to obey.

He could still hear the screams but now his ears tuned into a different sound. Heavy footsteps creaked on the staircase as a dark figure appeared at the top.

Aramis jolted awake, his heart pounding in his chest. He blinked rapidly, willing his vision to focus. The living room was dark and quiet, nothing different from other nights. Lying back against the couch cushion to catch his breath, he barely noticed his hand moving to the side of his head. Though the nightmares were nothing new to him, they still managed to snake their cold hands around him, stealing the air from his lungs.

It wasn’t until he managed to calm his breathing that he noticed the small boy standing on the other side of the coffee table, staring at him with wide eyes.

Aramis inwardly cursed, he must have been screaming in his sleep. He and Porthos had always danced around the topic, never really talking about it directly and he appreciated the trust the older man gave him. But tonight Porthos was at work and it was just him and the kid. 

“I’m sorry Olivier, I didn’t mean to wake you.” The teen swung his feet down and pushed himself into a sitting position. He scrubbed a hand across his face to clear the last of the faded images of his nightmare, and noticed Olivier was still staring at him in alarm. “I’m alright, just a bad dream.”

The boy continued to stare but his expression changed slightly, taking in Aramis’ haggard appearance and rapid breathing. Slowly, he stepped backwards before quickly turning around and disappearing towards his room at a run.

Great, just great.

Aramis really didn’t want to have to tell Porthos that he scared the boy, not after all the progress they had been making. He sat there pinching the bridge of his nose, debating whether or not to call Porthos or deal with this on his own, when he heard to soft footsteps. For a second, his panic took over not sure if that was real or a ghost from his dream.

He nearly sighed in relief at the sight of Olivier re-entering the living room. He watched as the small boy approached him cautiously, a book clutch tightly to his chest. Slowly Olivier stepped closer holding the book out towards the teen.

“Umm, thank you.” Aramis recognized it as the book Olivier had pulled out of the duffle bag Treville had pack. When they had set the bag down to unpack the boy’s things, Olivier had all but jumped at the book, holding it tightly and neither he nor Porthos had seen it since. 

Olivier stood at a distance, watching as Aramis’ fingers traced the cover. Slowly, he stepped closer to the couch, moving the blankets to take a seat next to him. 

Aramis’ heart swelled with emotion at the gesture. For the past week he had seen a bond form between the kid and Porthos and despite himself, he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. 

Re-adjusting the blanket around them felt natural to him, and he was happy to see Olivier inch a little closer to better see the book. Smiling, Aramis also turn his attention to the tattered book in his hands. It looked like a general child’s book about mothers. Slowly, he turned the first page.

Aramis eyes were instantly drawn to the top left corner.

Athos,  
N’oublie pas que je t’aimerai toujours, sans limite, de tout mon cœur.  
Avec amour, Maman xoxoxox

Olivier hands reached out to trace his fingers along the cursive script, as if he had done so many times before. Aramis finally understood why this book was so important. 

“Athos?” The teen stared down into those deep blue eyes. “Your name is Athos?” The boy simply nodded, a small hint of a smile appearing on his face. 

“Olivier d’Athos de la Fére.” The voice was barely a whisper and Aramis doubted he would have heard him at all had he not been so close. “But maman always called me Athos.”

Aramis found he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the delicate writing. This book must be the only thing Olivier, no Athos, had left of his mother. Tears started to pool in the corner of his eyes as he understood all too well the feeling of losing a mother. Instinctively, he wrapped an arm around Athos, pulling the small boy closer in a tight embrace.

For the first time, Athos didn’t flinch at the physical contact, but instead seemed to sink into the teen’s warmth. 

Aramis felt the tears as they fell on his forearm. “Would you like me to read you the story, Athos?” The boy’s small nod dislodged more tears and Aramis simply brushed them away with his thumb. “Okay.”

Porthos left work as soon as he could. Though he had been able to use one of his vacation weeks when he had taken Olivier home, he knew he had to return soon or later. He just wished that Olivier had been able to settle in a bit more before. Next week he was going to enroll the boy in school. 

Due to the late hour, Porthos tried his best to be quiet as he took off his shoes and coat in the entry way. Since Olivier had taken Aramis’ room, the teen was now sleeping on the couch, and would easily be woken by movement. Peering into the living room, Porthos was slightly alarmed to find the blankets pushed aside and no one in sight.

Continuing through the hallway towards the bedrooms, Porthos found the door leading to Aramis’ room wide open, the light from the bedside lamp spilling out into the hall.

There in the bed were both Olivier and Aramis. The blankets were pulled part way up and Porthos smiled at the sight of Olivier pressed up to the teen’s side, both of them snoring deep in sleep. 

Porthos watched them for a few minutes, not sure if he should wake them or not. Aramis always wanted to know when he got in, no matter how late it was. Porthos always assumed it had to do with his past, but seeing as the teen never talked about it, he had no way of knowing for sure. 

He remembered all too well the time he had snuck in late, and had decided not to wake the sleeping teen. Aramis had woken hours later, trapped in his nightmare and had stormed through the apartment looking frantically for the older man. 

Figuring it was best to just tell him he was home, Porthos crossed the room as quietly as he could, determined not to wake the boy atleast.

“Aramis.” It took a few tries to wake the teen, something Porthos had never seen before. “Just wanted to tell ya I’m back.” The teen nodded sleepily. Porthos watched with slight surprise as the teen stretched and Olivier wormed his way in closer. “I see you’re keeping Olivier warm.”

“Athos.”

“mm?” Porthos wasn’t sure what he heard, as Aramis had his face pressed into the pillow.

“Athos, his name is Athos.”


	3. Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took a second for Porthos’ mind to register what had just been said. “Mis’ what are you talking about?” The fear in Aramis’ eyes all but shocked the older man but in a flash, it was gone, replaced by that distant stare the teen often regarded the world with. “Who’s going to lock who up?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos and the comments; it's always nice to know other people enjoy the story you work so hard to realize. 
> 
> For all those who have wanted more than a glimpse into Aramis' past, I hope this lives up to your expectations.

Athos, as it turns out, was almost an entirely different person than Olivier. No longer did he flinch at his own name and he didn’t cower from them when they stepped too close to him. He did however maintain a physical distance between himself and anyone else, with the exception of allowing Aramis to hug him occasionally. 

They never spoke about the change or the fact that both Aramis and Athos seemed to sleep better when there was someone else close. More often than not, Porthos would now find both boys sprawled asleep in the bed in the morning. It was nearly unbelievable how much Athos had changed in just a week and he wondered if it was as noticeable to others as it was to him and Aramis. He supposed he was about to find out.

“Hello again Olivier.” Dr. de Larroque greeted them warmly.

Porthos saw the way the boy’s shoulders instantly tensed at the sound of his first name. “Actually Dr., he goes by Athos instead.” Instinctively he placed his hands on the small shoulders giving them a light squeeze of comfort. 

Ninon took notice of the small gesture and the way it instantly calmed the younger boy. “Athos, such a nice name. Then it is nice you again Athos.” She straightened from her crouched position and addressed Porthos. “I will have to ask you to wait in the reception room Mr. du Vallon.” 

He had talked about this with Athos on the way over, knowing the youth would need the advance warning to prevent any panic attacks. Despite that, he could feel the tension return to the small shoulder, and when the small face turned he could see the fear in his eyes as he looked up towards the older man.

“Hey, hey it’s alright, we talked about this.” He did his best to prevent the surly building panic attack. “I’ll just be outside waiting.” He crouching down to be at eye level, noticing that none of his words seemed to be sinking in. He needed to redirect Athos' attention to something else and fast. “Here.” Porthos fished his car keys from his pocket and handed them to Athos. “Now I’ll want them back when you’re done talking with the Dr., okay?” 

Athos stared at the keys in his hands then up to Porthos, a small smile sweeping across his features as he nodded. Closing his fist around the keys, he turned towards Ninon and the two headed inside the office, the door silently closing behind them. Porthos sauntered back across the reception and took a seat closest to the door.

Once the door closed behind him, Athos had a moment where he wasn’t sure what to do. The large room opened up before him, but the click of the latch behind him resounded loudly in his ears. He knew Porthos wouldn’t just leave him, he had always made sure to tell him so. But part of him had learned to not trust other people and when he was alone, that fear would creep back in.

“Athos, Porthos would never leave you behind.” Once again she waited for the small boy to look up towards her. She watched has he processed what she had said, then stare at the keys held tightly in his fist. Eventually when he came to the conclusion that Porthos would in fact not leave him, he headed towards the table of to the side where he and Thérèse had sat during their first visit.

Ninon mentally noted his choice of the round table off to the side compared to the large formal desk with its chairs near the middle. Taking the chair next to him, she was aware of Athos watching her every move. She had resolved to allow him the first step and so she simply sat there allowing his searching gaze to trace over her face.

In all her years of experience, she had never come across a child like the one sitting beside her now. On paper, you would assume Athos to be a quivering ball of nerves, malnourished, undeveloped social skills as well as being behind academically. But when you met him, you didn’t see any of those things. His gaze was critical, analysing and you could practically see his mind racking over thousands of scenarios at once. He stood tall, though always at a protective distance, and he seemed to be always taking in everything around him. Nothing seemed to escape his notice.

Finally, after deciding Ninon was not a threat, Athos pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over to her.

“Thank you.” She smiled as she took the paper from his hand. Slowly she unfolded it and laid it flat on the table in front of them, using her hand to straighten out the creases. Athos had drawn the picture she had asked him to, and he had drawn a row of people all smiling. “This is very lovely.” She praised as she took in the details.

“This must be Porthos.” She first pointed to the drawing of a large man with broad shoulders and dark sking. Athos nodded inching closer on his chair to better see the drawing. “And I guess this must be…. Aramis?” Again he nodded as she indicated the other person. He wasn’t as tall or big, but he had a head of what looked like unruly curls. Then she turned her attention to a woman with brown hair who was drawn up in the clouds, with what looked like a baby drawn beside her. “Is this your mother?”

It took an extra second for him to nod this time and she could see the flash of sadness cross his features before quickly disappearing. “She looks like a very nice person. Why don’t you draw yourself now beside Porthos and Aramis. I think that’s the only thing missing here.” She handed him the box of crayons she kept on the table and watched as he added himself next to the two other people.

Ninon found it fascinating how such a task as drawing himself next to Portho and Aramis seemed to lighten his mood exponentially. Perhaps letting Athos live with them may not be a bad idea after all, although she had not met Aramis yet. Porthos seemed to really care about the small boy and the two seemed to have reached a deep level of trust despite Athos’ issues. However, she got the impression that things would not be so simply with the teenager. She had seems the look that crossed his face when she had mentioned the fact that she wanted to meet him as well, though Porthos had done well to hide it from Athos. 

Having finished with his addition, Athos held the paper out towards her again. As she studied the smaller person that had been added on Porthos’ other side, she couldn’t help but ponder its significance. It would seem that to Athos, Porthos had not only saved him by taking him in but had done the same for the teen. It would seem she had research to do before there next visit. 

Porthos had to fight the urge to spring to his feet the second he saw the door handle turning. He had been sitting in the reception area leafing through the magazines and doing his best not to worry about how Athos was doing. But as the minutes clicked by and the noise of the keyboard as the receptionist typed away filled the silence, his own anxiety began to mount.

He smiled in relief as Athos stepped out holding a piece of paper in one hand and the car keys in the other. Dr. de Larroque smiled as she followed behind, no doubt having notice the other’s relief at seeing Athos was alright.

“Porthos, I would love the chance to meet Aramis as well, perhaps our next meeting?” Though her tone was light Porthos caught the underlining meaning; she wanted Aramis to come at the next meeting. 

Helping Athos pull his coat over the cast, Porthos nodded his understanding pausing only for a fraction. “Sure, not a problem. I think he’s always looking for excuses to miss class anyway.” He easily joked, trying to match her hidden meaning. One look at Athos though told him they hadn’t really succeeded. “I’ll talk to him but not sure how he’s going to feel about it. The social worker is coming later this week to do their routine assessment so we’ll see how that goes.”

Athos watched the exchange, taking in every word. He wasn’t quite sure why Porthos thought Aramis wouldn’t want to me Ninon, she was very nice. Not to mention this was the first time he had heard about the social workers visit. 

“I see. Please tell child services that I would like a copy of the report to go in my files. Have them sent it to my office directly.” Her tone took on a softer note as she pondered over what Porthos had said about the teen. “I think you have best to involve him in Athos’ recovery. It could be good for him as well.”

Pulling the zipper on Athos’ coat up towards the boys chin, he could see from his peripheral that Athos was staring at him, his piercing blue eyes studying his face. Standing to his full height, he met Ninon’s gaze.

“I’ll talk to him.” 

“Good, then I hope to see you all next week.” 

Damn.

Porthos spend the rest of the day trying to work out how he was going to bring it up with the teen.

There was no easy to do this and Aramis was not going to handle this well. He had not found a way to bring up the social worker’s visit with Aramis and now he had to bring up a child psychiatrist. The teen was going to bolt for sure.

Fortunately the older man had more time to mull it over as Aramis was currently out with some friends. Deciding he had delayed this for far too long already, Porthos settle into the couch ready to wait for Aramis to return home. 

It was well past midnight when the front door opened quietly and Aramis snuck in. Athos had been asleep for hours now but he wasn’t sure if Porthos had gone to bed as well or if the older was still awake.

“Hey Mis, fun night?” Porthos steeled his nerves for what he knew would be a very difficult topic.

“Now, now, you can’t expect me to divulge all my adventures.” Aramis grinned mockingly as he pulled off his shoes. Shrugging off his coat, he tossed it into the closet before dumping his keys on the countertop on his way to the fridge. “What kind of gentleman would I be?”

Porthos snorted in response. Aramis was notorious for his charm and his ability to woo any girl he pleased, although he would never take advantage of anyone. He always claimed he was just befriending the fairer sex and it was them who through themselves at him. He could hardly refuse a ladies request, or atleast that’s what he always told the older man.

“Umm, ‘Mis ..” This wasn’t getting any easier and so he decided to just be straightforward. “Thursday someone from child service is coming for a visit to check things out.” He watched from his seat on the couch as Aramis stopped, a frown creasing his brow.

The teen straightened and closed the fridge door he had been holding open. “What?”

“Aramis, it's a standard visit for any child in foster care.” This was starting just as he assumed it would.

“It’s always just a visit then they take you away, ship you off somewhere.” Aramis’ voice rose steadily, his fist clenching at his side.

To his credit, Porthos kept his own voice calm. Aramis had always been the most passionate of either of them and despite their easy comradery, the two would often argue. In most cases, a quick heated exchange would be easily forgiven in a few hours’ time.

The older man, however, also knew Aramis enough to know that this wasn’t about the social worker or Athos. 

“Aramis, the social worker is coming to talk to him, just making sure he’s adjusting well. He’s not going anywhere.” When he had taken in the teenager, a social worker had come for a similar visit; dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s as far as legal was concerned.

Still fuming, Aramis closed the distance between the two. “And when they find out he’s still not talking to anyone other than you or me. What do you think they’ll do to him then? They’ll lock him up somewhere just like they did to …….” Aramis broke off mid-sentence, his eyes wide.

It took a second for Porthos’ mind to register what had just been said. “Mis’ what are you talking about?” The fear in Aramis’ eyes all but shocked the older man but in a flash, it was gone, replaced by that distant stare the teen often regarded the world with. “Who’s going to lock who up?” 

As if realizing he had said more than he wanted to, Aramis turned on his heels and stormed down the hallway towards the front door, snagging his keys from the counter on his way.

“Oi! Where are you going?” Porthos leaped up from the couch, not ready to let this topic drop. He knew he had hit a nerve and felt slightly guilty for pushing but Aramis rarely opened up about anything regarding his life before meeting Porthos and this discussion seemed to have just ripped away part of the teen’s protective shield. “Don’t walk away from this.”

“You’re not my father!!” Aramis spat as he spun around, his chest heaving as his fist closed tight around the keys clutched in his hand.

The older man stared back in shock, his stride frozen mid-step. Where did that come from? 

Truth be told, he had expected something like this in the early years of their friendship, for any orphan this was a trump card for all arguments and he himself had once spat that exact phrase at someone else.

But this was different. This wasn’t just an attempt to end the argument or scare someone away, this was more and Porthos was well aware that he and Aramis weren’t having the same discussion. Everything about the boy’s stance, from his tense shoulders to his shaking hands told him as much. 

“No. I’m not your father.” Porthos answered back trying hard to keep his voice even while he kept eye contact with the teen. “But do you know who I am?” Porthos took a step forward keeping Aramis’ full attention. “I’m the total strange who took you into his home when you were freezing your ass off out on the sidewalk. Gave you food, clothes and a warm bed to sleep in. I’m the guy who stays up with you when your nightmares keep you up at night and I’m the guy who never asked about that long scar on the side of your head or about those migraines. So no, I’m not your father.” 

Posthos took another small step towards Aramis, tough this time the teen did step back. Letting out a long breath to calm himself, Porthos continued. “ ’Mis, you know I care about you, and Athos. And I would never let anything happen to either one of you. What is this really about? Whatever it was that happened to you before, I want to help, but you’ve gotta give me somethin’ here. Trust me.” 

Aramis eyes dropped to the floor as tears made his vision blur. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, his back pressed against the door as all the fight left him in one breathe. Porthos watched as a shacky hand reached out to trace the thin scar on the side of his head. 

Early on Porthos had learned that when Aramis was stressed or nervous, his fingers would subconsciously comb through his tuffs of curls, eventually stopping to trace the long scar in his hairline just above his right ear. In those moments, Aramis always looked like he was trapped in some unknown memory, his eyes locked on something only he could see, and it pained Porthos to see him like that and not be able to help.

“I’m sorry Porthos.” It was barely a whisper but the sound carried to the older man. “I just….. sometimes I just….” His right hand continued to trace the thin scar as his shoulders shivered slightly.

Crouching down to sit next to him, Porthos wrapped an arm around the smaller frame, hoping to offer some comfort. “It’s okay, ‘Mis. Don’t worry about it.” When the shaking started to worsen, Porthos pulled him in closer, wrapping both arms around him as Aramis buried his face in the older man’s shoulder. Slowly, Porthos pulled Aramis’ hand aways from its absentminded task.

He held Aramis as the younger man sobbed into his shoulder. They had done this many times before, usually when Aramis woke from nightmares or when the migraines got too bad. Never once had Aramis shared what haunted him and Porthos had never asked. Some months were better than others and Porthos had started to notice the winter season seemed to be the worst of them. 

“D’Herblay.” Aramis eventually mumbled into Porthos’ shirt. Sensing the older man’s confusion, he pulled back wiping his face on his sleeve as he leaned back against the door. “My real name’s D’Herblay. René D’Herblay.” 

Porthos grinned, his heart lightening enormously at the small gesture of trust. “Well I can see why you changed it. Isn’t that a girl’s name?” He was rewarded as the tension visibly left the younger man’s shoulders and Aramis couldn’t help the chuckled that escaped his lips as his grin widened to match his friends.

“Shut up.” 

Getting to his feet, Porthos reached a hand down to help Aramis. “Come on, we should go make sure Athos’ alright; probably got scared.” Once on his feet, Aramis nodded sheepishly. He had completely forgotten about their youngest brother and knew that he surely would have heard the heated exchange. Clasping the younger man’s shoulder, he steered them back towards the kitchen “Why don’t you go get him while I make us some hot chocolate, yeah?” Aramis simply nodded. “Oh and ‘Mis,” he waited till he turned to face him before continuing, “Aramis du Vallon is just as good a name as any. It suits you better.” The smile he received in return was one of the most genuine smiles he had ever seen from the teen.

Aramis wiped the remaining tears on his sleeve as he headed towards Athos’ room. 

As Porthos watched the teen head down the hall he finally let out the giant breath he’d been holding. The mask that Aramis kept so well guarded had cracked and he had seen part of what haunted the teen at night. Porthos gripped the counters edge to steady himself as tears ran down his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And don't worry, I haven't forgotten D'Artagnan.
> 
> As always, any errors are my own.


	4. Cope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What happened to them?” 
> 
> “They had to go away; God called them.” Aramis quietly answered, doing his best to keep his voice level. “For a long time I hated them for leaving me alone, but now I know it wasn’t their fault.” He instinctively hugged his little brother tighter trying to hide his shaking arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was uncooperative! I had no problem picturing everyone else at different ages but D’Artagnan proved impossible; partially why he’s only now showing up. Anyway, tough this started out as a Athos centric fic, Aramis is slowly stealing the spotlight as he starts to unravel…. and unravel he will.
> 
> As always, any mistake are my own and I do not own the Musketeers.

The door was ajar and Aramis cursed himself for not thinking of Athos when he was yelling earlier. He knocked lightly on the door but didn’t wait for an answer before entering.

“Athos? It’s Aramis, can I come in?” He wasn’t surprised to find the bed empty and the little boy nowhere in sight.

Making his way towards the closet, Aramis slowly lowered himself on all fours and pulled the door open slowly. Sure enough, Athos had cocooned himself in a blanket at the far end of the small space.

“I’m coming to see you alright?” The huddle of blankets nodded. Aramis crawled in and encircled the small huddle in a loose embrace. “I’m sorry Athos, I didn’t mean to yell.” After a moment the top blanket was pulled aside revealing a mop of disheveled brown hair and a pair of piercing blue eyes. 

“Are you mad at Porthos?” The voice was barely a whisper but to Aramis’ ears it was the loudest noise he had ever heard. From the kitchen he could hear Porthos moving around and was instantly reminded how easily sound carried in their apartment.

With a steady hand, Aramis brushed the stray strands of hair from Athos’ face. “No, I’m not mad at Porthos. I could never be mad at Porthos. “ 

Athos seemed to be studying him and the teen simply allowed him, for once not trying to hide behind one of his famous grins. Slowly, Athos raised a small hand to the side of Aramis’ head, tentatively touching the scar. “Was your father a bad man too?” 

Aramis swallowed back fresh tears. Athos was always quiet and rarely spoke thatit always caught him off guard how much the kid really noticed and understand. “No, my father wasn’t a bad man. He was really nice.” 

Aramis felt as if the dam had finally been broken and there just was no hiding anymore. “He loved me very much, me and my sisters. He always played with us when he got home from work even though he was really tired.” Pulling back more of the blankets, Aramis pulled Athos unto his lap holding the small child tightly.

“What happened to them?” 

“They had to go away; God called them.” Aramis quietly answered, doing his best to keep his voice level. “For a long time I hated them for leaving me alone, but now I know it wasn’t their fault.” He instinctively hugged his little brother tighter trying to hide his shaking arms. 

For years, Aramis had pushed down any thoughts of his family. His mind had been unable to cope with what happened and the major concussion he sustained hadn’t help. Though he knew the gist of what happened from the news and police reports, he couldn’t actually remember any of it. His memory of that night and the months that followed were fragments that haunted him at night. He could still hear his sisters’ screams long after he woke. “I miss them”

Athos was quiet for some time, working out this new information in his mind. “My mother went away too. I miss her a lot. Everything was different before.” Athos pulled out of Aramis’ grip to turn and face him. “Promise me you won’t go away too.”

Bringing his hands to either side of Athos face, Aramis looked straight into his eyes. “There is nothing on this planet that would ever make me leave you, little brother.” 

Athos let out a shaky breath as tears slowly streaked down the side of his face. With his thumb Aramis wiped them dry. “Come on, Porthos is waiting for us, he’s made some hot chocolate.” 

After mentally collecting themselves, the two made their way towards the kitchen. Porthos greeted them both with a warm smile offering them both a cup of hot chocolate. He quickly caught Aramis’ attention, his gaze quietly assessing the teen. Content with what he saw, he nodded to the teen, clasping him tightly on the shoulder. “Come on, I think we need a movie to go with these hot chocolates.” 

****

Porthos had been staring at his computer screen for 20 minutes now. He had gotten as far as typing the name René d’Herblay in the missing children search database but hadn’t been able to hit enter. 

He wanted to know, it was the only way he thought he could actually help him but part of him didn’t want to know. Aramis had gone to great length to bury that part of him and to do this as if he was betraying his trust, even though he was the only to tell him his name in the first place.

“What’s up?” D’Artagnan glanced over to his partner, trying to gage his mood. The other man seemed to be on edge these last few days and everyone seemed to find it best for their own safety to just avoid him. When the other man didn’t seem to have heard him, he loudly cleared his throat. Eventually Porthos tore his gaze away from his computer screen, blinking away the confusion from his eyes.

“What?” Porthos hadn’t heard a word his partner had said but by the way he was currently looking at him he knew he had asked him a question.

D’Artagnan wasn’t irritated or annoyed in the least. “I asked you what’s wrong. You’ve been starring at your computer screen for 10 minutes now.” 

Porthos didn’t answer right away. His defacto answer was that everything was fine but after last night’s events, he wasn’t so sure anymore for either one of them. He knew Aramis had his buried demons and that it really was just a matter of time before they worked their way out. He had just not been expecting to have to help both boys at the same time.

Maybe they would be better off somewhere else with someone more qualified to handle those kinds of situations.

“You remember what I told ya when you took in Aramis?” D’Artagnan waited till Porthos nodded before continuing. “You knew you needed to do something to help him but you doubted yourself. Didn’t think you were the right person to help him.”

Porthos remembered those first weeks all too well, and the fact that he couldn’t help but to compare that experience with his current situation meant he was constantly playing it back in his mind. Though no one at the precinct said anything to him directly, he knew they were all talking about him taking Aramis in. D’Aratagnan, however, had been supportive from the start. 

It had all happened around the same time he joined the force. D’Artagnan had been a cop for only a few years himself and had instantly bonded with the new recruit. At first Porthos had been uncomfortable with the easy friendship, his life experience had taught him that no one was ever that kind. Over the next few months however, he began to rely on the other man. And then when he took in Aramis, his partner had been a constant source of support.

“What you’ve done for those two is beyond words. You my friend have a heart that can’t be measured.” D’Artagnan waited till those words sunk in. “So, stop looking like someone kicked your puppy.” 

D’Aratagnan had a knack for reading people and gaging situations. His skills had more than once helped calm an otherwise dangerous situation on the field and Porthos was grateful to have the opportunity to learn from the man.

“Porthos, my office.” The booming voice of Captain Treville had him on his feet before he knew it. A quick glance at his partner told him he had no idea what it was about.

Putting his hands in his pockets as he entered the office, Porthos wasn’t really sure if he should be ready to apologize or not. The Captain was notorious for keeping all emotions from his voice and so you could never really gage what mood he was in. 

Deciding to stand near the chair opposite the desk, he greeted his Captain. “Sir?”

“Close the door and have a seat.” Now Porthos wasn’t sure what to expect but he did as he was told. 

Treville waited till the other man took a seat before looking up to meet his gaze. “Porthos, there’s no easy way to tell you this. Olivier’s father is pleading not guilty to the physical assault charges against his son. The case won’t stand without Olivier’s testimony in court.” Porthos felt like he’d been punched in the gut; all the air having escaped his lungs. “The lawyers will be in contact with you to arrange a meeting with Olivier to be able to plan their defense.”

“They want Athos to go and testify against his father in court? Hasn’t the kid been through enough already?” Porthos’ hands were shaking but his police training helped him keep his voice even.

“That’s what he’s hoping for. He knows Oli… Athos,”Treville corrected himself, “won’t testify in court and he’s expecting the charges to be dropped. That way he also maintains parental custody of the child.”

This didn’t make sense. Why would a man who beat his child want to maintain parental custody? It was obvious the man had paid little to no attention to Athos before so why want him back?

“We found Athos’ mother’s will.” Treville continued as if reading Porthos’ thoughts. “It seems her family was very wealthy and left her a considerable sum. Upon her death, all her inheritance was transferred over to Athos. The money is locked in a trust fund until Athos turns 21 and I believe that’s the reason why his father will do everything he can to maintain parental rights.”

Porthos clenched his fist at his side, wanting nothing more than to lash out at something. Everything Athos was going through was because of money.

He could barely contain his growing anger. Porthos had grown up an orphan with nothing to his name, being shuffled from one home to another, and no one to really cared about him. Despite all that, and comparing himself to Athos, it looked like and had been giving the better deal. How different would Athos’ life have been if he too had nothing to his name.

“The lawyers will be in touch with you,” Captain Treville continued, as if sensing the other man’s anger. “They promise to do everything they can to keep Athos safe. I would suggest however, that you ask Dr. de Larroque for her professional opinion.” Porthos snapped his gaze up to meet his captain’s eyes, understanding dawning on him. “Good, now if there’s nothing else, I have work to do.”

Porthos nodded to his captain at the clear sign of dismissal. He was still angry at the thought of Athos standing in court in front of his father, the man who had caused him so much harm. In just the few weeks that Athos had been living with them, he felt like they had helped bring the boy out of his protective shell, a shell that Porthos had no idea how long he had been hiding behind.

The last thing he wanted was to see that small boy close into himself again. 

Porthos was half way to his desk before he noticed Aramis slouched against his desk, his arms draped protectively over Athos’s shoulders as the two listened intensively to something D’Artagnan was saying.

His gaze immediately wandered to Athos. He seemed enthralled with whatever tale the other man was saying, a small smile pulling at his lips, and he didn’t seem to be bothered by all the activity around him. Although he was also sure that Aramis’ protective embrace had a lot to do with that.

“You’re late!” Aramis’ comment caught him by surprise. As if sensing his confusion, the teen added, “You said to meet you here at 4.”

“Right. Sorry I got held up with something.” He forced down the new information, hoping to hide his uneasiness, fully aware of Athos staring at him. Deciding to change the topic, Porthos plastered on one of his trademark grins. “Alright, we better get going then.”

Both Aramis and Athos stared at him a second longer and Porthos knew that he hadn’t managed to fool either one of them. He did however hope that neither one of them would ask him about it. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow D’Artagnan.”

“See you tomorrow Porthos. Aramis stay out of trouble you hear?” He couldn’t help the small chuckle as he watched Aramis feign innoncence, acting like he didn’t know what he was talking about. “And it was really nice to meet you Athos. You make sure that Aramis eats all his vegetables alright?” 

Porthos’s heart warmed as Athos smile to the other man, nodding enthusiastically as Aramis made a face of disgust. It would seem that Athos was also not immune to D’Artagnan’s easy charm.

“What’s all this about vegetables?” Porthos instantly recognized Captain Treville’s voice as the Aramis. At first the teen had harboured an outward dislike of the captain but over time, it seemed that Aramis had come to trust the other man. Porthos always assumed that Aramis thought Captain Treville would turn him over to child services or press him for personal information so when the older captain didn’t, the teen began to relax a little more.

“Just making sure Aramis eats all his vegetables, he’s barely skin and bones.” D’Artagnan leaned back in his chair, grinning from ear to ear, clearly amused with teasing the teenager.

“I’m just lean and still growing, thank you very much.” While the two continued their verbal contest, Captain Treville noticed the small pair of bright blue eyes staring up at him from the protective circle of Aramis’ arms. 

Porthos also noticed. “Athos, you remember Captain Treville?” 

Athos seemed lost in thought. Finally his right hand lifted to his face, his fingers tracing over the area under his nose and above his lip. 

Captain Treville laughed at the gesture. “That’s right, I’m the one with the mustache that looks like a caterpillar.” He was amazed that Athos remembered the description of him. 

Porthos had told him that Athos didn’t seem to remember everything about that night or the next day, but Dr de Laroque was not concerned, saying that it was to be expected. She had simply told Porthos to make a note of all the small things Athos did remember and try to fill in the gaps when needed, but more importantly not to press.

 

After waving goodbye to everyone, the three headed out to the parking lot. Once or twice Aramis had sent him a sideways glance which Porthos ignored. He was determined not to let anything ruin the surprise evening he had planned; both Aramis and Athos deserved it. 

Porthos assumed that Athos had probably not had a normal childhood, and the last three weeks had confirmed his suspicions. There were so many things Porthos and Aramis took for granted that had Athos staring at them wide eyed. Just the other day Aramis had spent nearly an hour passing the vacuum with Athos. Such a simple task had mesmerized the small child, his curiosity keeping him captivated and intrigued that Aramis hadn’t the heart to end it, and so the two had cleaned the entire apartment from top to bottom, Athos taking extra delight when it was his turn to control the machine.

When they finally pulled into the restaurant parking lot, Aramis and Athos started a debate about who was better at checkers. The two had found an old board while they were cleaning out the spare room, and when Athos told him he used to play with his mother, Aramis had taken it on himself to play whenever child wanted. Athos turned out to be a very good player, having a natural ability for strategy and being able to read his opponent’s mind. One day, he would have to show him how to play chess.

The three headed towards one of the far booths, making sure to have a clear line of sight of the door for Aramis and out of the way for Athos. The two only paused in their debate when the waitress came to take their orders, or to be fair Athos had stopped talking the moment they stepped out of the truck. Maybe this might work out after all.

“Alright Porthos,” Aramis asked setting his soda down on the table a few minutes later. “What aren’t you telling us.”

Damn him.

Though Aramis was the one to ask, it was Athos’ piercing blue eyes that tore through him. They both knew there was something and one look at the kid sitting across from him crushed any thought he had of outright lying. 

“Maybe we can wait till after dinner,” Porthos offered trying to shift the conversation. Athos continued staring at him, his face practically unreadable save for the slight raised eyebrow. “Let’s just have a nice evening then we can talk about it later once we get home, alright. I promise.”

After slight consideration, Athos nodded but Aramis wasn’t so easily deterred, his dark brown eyes searching the older man for any clues. Following the kid’s lead though, the teen thankfully let the topic drop for the time being, calling it a truce for the time being but in no way forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who take the time to read, comment, bookmark, subscribe and leave kudos.   
> Thank you very very much.


	5. Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What if he says no,” Aramis barely whispered after Porthos had recounted his early conversation with Captain Treville. “They can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's been some time since the last chapter went up but work and my real life left me with little time in front of a computer to type this out. I've been mentally planning the chapters and the events but never had more than 10 minute intervals to write them out. Hopefully the next chapter won't be as challenging. On the plus side, I have finished one of the future chapters as well as planned out the entire story. So those worried this fanfic might never end, (seeing the omnious ? for the total of chapters) don't worry. I have it all planned out.
> 
> Thank you again for all the hits, comments, bookmarks, kudos and subscriptions. They really inspire me.

They ate their supper in relative silence, definitely not what Porthos had imagined when he had planned this outting. Athos still remained silent around other people, the old habits and fears creeping back whenever they were in public, but to most strangers it barely showed. He had improved greatly but his shoulders still tensed when someone walked by their table, his broken arm folded under the table out of view. Aramis filled the silence with constant chatter about school and girls and anything else that came to mind, even though neither Athos nor Porthos seemed to be listening. Despite his outwards nonchalance, Porthos knew him better. 

This was how Aramis acted when he was trying to convince himself or others that everything was fine. Porthos however saw how his eyes wandered to the door every time it swung open, how he watched the movement in the restaurant and even the way he seemed to act as a human barrier for Athos when the waitress came by. 

All these things Porthos had known before but since Athos joined their little misfit family, it seemed that Aramis was more on edge than ever before. It almost seemed as if the teen had taken it upon himself to protect Athos but from what, he wasn’t so sure.

Every once in a while Porthos would add in a comment when the teen would prompt him, the other doing his best to coax him into joining the otherwise one sided conversation. Eventually he stopped, allowing the older man the simmer in his own thoughts.

When they finally made it back home, both Aramis and Athos were nearly demanding an explanation for his detached mood. Figuring there was no way around it, and that he preferred telling Athos sooner rather than later, seeing as he had no idea when the lawyers would call, he guided them to the living room couch, gesturing for them to take a seat as he tried to find the right words.

“What if he says no,” Aramis barely whispered after Porthos had recounted his early conversation with Captain Treville. “They can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to.”

Porthos knitted his fingers together to keep them busy, balancing his elbows on his knees while the entire apartment was plunged into silence.

He had no answer; no words to calm or reassure both boys sitting in front of him. This was beyond his control since Athos was legally in the care of child services. “I’m going to ask Dr. de Laroque for her opinion and see what she thinks.” 

His attention shifted to the small boy sitting in front of him, “what do you want to do Athos?”

Athos sat perfectly still on the edge of his seat, his gaze focused on a point past the older man. He had yet to say anything or make any reaction what’s so ever. Beside him, Aramis’ fists clutched tightly at his knees, his arms shaking and his knuckles white as he worked to control his emotions, no doubt wanting nothing more than to lash out at something or someone.

When Athos’ gaze finally met the older man’s, a piece of Porthos’ heart broke at the sight of those wide blue eyes brimming with tears.

Acting on instinct and an urge that was stronger than he knew, Porthos closed the distance between them to kneel in front of the couch, wrapping his arms protectively around Athos’ shacking shoulders and pulling him into his chest, wishing to be able to shield the small 5 year old from everything.

“It’s alright Athos, I’m right here, we’re right here,” Porthos spoke softly while he held the child close. “We’re not going to let anything bad happen to you.” Athos finally melted into Porthos’ embrace burrowing his face in Porthos neck, much like he did on the first night they met. 

Porthos chanced a glace towards Aramis, wanting to know how the teen was holding up. 

Aramis hadn’t moved. He was still sitting on the couch next to them, his hands fisted at his side and his hard gaze fixed straight ahead. “How can you say that to him when you’re not doing anything to stop them.” The teen’s voice was low and void of any emotion.

“Aramis, I can’t break the law,” Porthos replied calmly, fully aware Athos was listening to every word, even those unsaid. He recognized the shift in the teen and was no stranger to the emotional outburst that was sure to come with it. “You know I’m doing everything I can. What else would you have me do?”

“Run,” came Aramis’ disconnected reply. “Take Athos and runaway somewhere no one knows and they’ll leave him alone.”

Athos pulled back from Porthos, his sharp gaze scrutinizing the profile of Aramis’ face as he whipped the tears from his own cheek. Even he had noticed to change. It was obvious that Aramis had slipped off from reality, trapped somewhere in his memories and Porthos was just now realizing how much this was happening lately.

When the teen had first moved in, these dissociative episodes where common but over the years, their frequency decreased. But since Athos moved in, things have been spiraling.

“This isn’t Porthos’ fault,” Athos whispered, trying to catch the teen’s attention. Aramis continued to stare ahead, his mind millions of miles away. “Aramis.” Carefully, Athos leaned closer to the teen, his hand extending towards one of the balled fists until it closed around the white knuckles.

Aramis jumped slightly at the physical contact, his head whipping around to face the small child as his eyes worked to refocus on reality.

“Aramis, this isn’t Porthos’ fault,” he repeated, waiting till the teen nodded in understanding. With one shaky breathe, all the fight seemed to leave the teen and he hunched in his seat.

Sensing the new shift, Porthos reached out a hand to firmly grip the back or Aramis’ neck, before pulling him in and incorporating the teen in his protective embrace. And Aramis let him.

“Sorry Porthos.” 

Porthos could feel Athos shifting closer to the teen, and he pulled back a little to allow the child more freedom.

“It’s alright ‘Mis,” Athos reassured, sounding much older than five at the moment. Aramis pulled his chin up to be able to look those blue eyes. Slowly, Athos untangled himself from Porthos’ grasp to wrap his small arms around Aramis’ neck, and hugged him tightly.

Porthos couldn’t stop the tears that spilled down his cheeks at the sight of the two boys sitting in front of him. Not knowing what else to do, he simply wrapped his arms around the pair and held them close.

*********

He was cold. 

He was very cold.

His head felt light and heavy at the same time, but he couldn’t focus on anything. It was an odd sensation; one that he couldn’t quite describe. Staring around he saw only darkness except for the mist that formed from his breathing. He knew it was late and he should hurry home before mamá began to worry. 

He tried to stand but his legs wouldn’t listen. He stared blankly at the limbs in front of him, unable to connect his thoughts. 

A hand on his arm jerked him out of his daze, and his ears were suddenly filled with screams and gunshots.

He fought as hard as he could against the hand on his arm. He didn’t know what was happening but he knew he needed to run. Whenever it felt like he was breaking free, more hands seemed to be holding him back.

“NNNOOOOOOOOO!” 

Porthos heard the screaming and was instantly running down the hall towards the boys’ shared room. Aramis was thrashing about on the bed, clearly trapped in throws of some nightmare. The teen continued screaming and mumbling in his sleep as he fought with the blankets twisted around his torso.

Glancing around the room, he found Athos backed against the dresser as if he had just jumped out of bed. He was breathing heavily and his casted arm was wrapped around his ribs while his gaze was fixed on the teen.

“NOOOOOOO, POR FAVOR NO!!!” 

Porthos quickly moved to grab both of Aramis’ shoulders, intent on waking the teen from whatever hellish prison his mind had conjured.

“Aramis, wake up.” He continued to shake the teen gently, noticing how Aramis seemed to be struggling against his hold. “ARAMIS!!”

The teen’s brown eyes flashed open just as his left fist swung outwards, connecting hard with Porthos’ jaw, and sending the older man sprawling backwards in surprise.

Aramis huddle against the head board of the bed, breathing erratically and blinking rapidly trying to make sense of what he saw, clearly not fully awake yet.

Porthos massaged his jaw, trying not to imagine the colorful bruise that will no doubt be forming come morning. Athos still hadn’t moved from the other side of the room, his eyes still glued to the teen.

“’Mis…” Porthos stopped as Aramis nearly leapt in surprise, his wild gaze finally landing and focusing on the older man. “Aramis,” Porthos tried again before attempting to move closer. Finally he could see recognition dawning in the teen’s features.

“Porthos.”

“Yeah, just me,” the older man reassured him as he took a small tentative step towards the bed. “Bad dream?” 

His attempt to lighten the tense mood failed miserably and so he shifted his focus to the small boy across the room. Athos was still breathing heavily and his arm was still wrapped around his midsection.

“Athos?” 

Porthos made his way around the bed, keeping his movements slow and deliberate for everyone’s sake, to the small boy, his worry increasing by the boy’s breathing. Damn his ribs.

“Are you alright?” Athos nodded shakily watching as Aramis’ clambered down from the bed and sinking to the floor next to Porthos, also alarmed. Slowly, the older man pulled Athos’ arm away from his ribs, relieved to see at least his breathing had calmed.

Porthos slowly lifted the edge of Athos’ pyjamas shirt to inspect his side, making sure the wrapping was still in place. It had been three weeks and his cracked ribs were healing well but there were times when he would catch Athos wincing when he moved too quickly.

After a quick check, he was glad to see no serious harm was done, finally letting go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Throughout all of this, Athos’ attention was entirely focused on the teen.

“I think it’s best I sleep on the couch,” Aramis barely finished before dragging himself to his feet and trudging out of the room. Athos made to follow but Porthos held him back.

“He just needs a little time to himself. He’ll be fine in the morning,” Porthos explained. He did his best to keep his own uncertainty from his voice but he could tell that Athos wasn’t entirely convinced. “How about I tuck you in and then I’ll go check on him.”

Finally he nodded and allowed Porthos to help him back into bed, taking great care to untangle the blankets and straightening them out. It took some time for Athos to get comfortable, no doubt his ribs were going to be sore tomorrow as well.

“Do you want me to read you a story?” 

Athos nodded, and Porthos retrieved the kid’s old book from the dresser. Aramis read him the story every night and every day when Athos came back from school, he would check to make sure the precious item was where he had left it.

Porthos had barely started the third page when Athos finally nodded off, his soft snoring filling the silence. Slowly and as quietly as he could, the older man eased himself off the mattress and replaced the beloved book atop the dresser. 

He wince as the door squeaked as he pulled it shut, making sure to leave a large gap so the hallway light could filter through the dark room. When he was confident Athos hadn’t woken up, Porthos then made up his mind to go check on the teen.

He wasn’t hard to find.

“I don’t want to talk to anyone,” came the sullen response from the couch before Porthos could even get close enough. He had expected this. Aramis was curled on his side, facing outwards and refusing to turn to face the other man.

Porthos grabbed the blanket from the chair and draped it over the teen, softly padding his leg as he turned to head back to his room. “Good night ‘Mis. You know where to find me if you need to.”

*****

When Porthos woke in the morning, he was surprised to see the sun was only starting to clear the top of the nearby house, indicating that it was still early in the morning. Normally not an early riser, he laid back fully intending to get a bit more sleep after the restless night the all had, but the sweet smell of coffee pulled his tired mind into focus.

Next came the awareness of a slight throbbing of his lower jaw. Right. Porthos tentatively felt the sore skin but was happy to note that it wasn’t that bad after all. That will be one less things on Aramis’ guilty conscious.

Knowing he still needed to talk to Aramis, Porthos figured this would be the best time to do so before Athos woke up. Tiredly he pulled himself from the warmth of the covers and headed down the hall, passing the empty bedrooms on his way. 

“Good morning! Sleep well?”

Porthos blinked back at the teen, his brain not yet awake and not entirely prepared for this change in mood from last night.

“Here, I made you coffee. It’s decaf so Athos can have some too,” Aramis continued without hesitation. He ushered the older man into a chair beside Athos and returned to his task at the stove. “I’m also making pancakes for everyone.”

Porthos watched in surprise as the teen busied himself making pancakes, stacking the freshly made one on an already growing pile. Looking over to his right, he could see Athos’ plate was piled high with pancakes, more than the kids could possibly eat, and there was an untouched cup of coffee sitting next to a full glass of orange juice.

From Athos’ expression it was clear the five year was worried. Even he recognised this behavior as odd and worrisome. Deciding it was best not to try and lie to Athos, Porthos instead turned his focus back on the teen, who was currently taking out toppings for the pancakes.

“Aramis,” Porthos picked up the jar of strawberry jam that the teen had just put in front of him, “where did you get this jam from?” Neither Porthos nor Aramis had ever been toast and jam people, and so this was just something they never bought. Looking around, he started noticing things that he could have sworn they didn’t have in their pantry yesterday.

Aramis continued pulling things out of cupboards and laying them out on the table like an elaborate banquet. “I bought it this morning. I thought maybe Athos likes jam,” he explained non-pulsed.

That meant that Aramis had gone grocery shopping sometime between last night and this morning. A bunch of mental red flags went up as Porthos continued to watch the teen busy himself around the kitchen. Though he was cheerful and smiling like he normally would be, the older could see the cracks that had appeared in his well-worn mask. 

“Aramis.” 

Porthos was so lost in thought he had completely forgotten about Athos sitting beside him. 

“Aramis,” Athos continued once the teen had stopped to look at him. “I have to go see Dr de Larocque next week,…” he paused making sure to give Aramis time to understand, “and I wanted to know if you could come with me.”

Both Aramis and Porthos turned to stare at the youngest member of their new family. For days now Porthos had been trying to find a way to bring this up in conversion without pushing the teen away. He waited hesitantly for Aramis’ reaction.

“She’s a psychiatrist,” the small boy went on, his attention wholly focused on Aramis as the teen was now fidgeting with the towel in his hand. “I really like her and she’s really nice. When I go see her we talk about stuff and sometimes she asks me to draw her pretty pictures. She helps me understand things. Will you come with me and talk to her too.”

Aramis hadn’t moved, except for his hands that were twisting and untwisting the hand towel. Slowly, his gaze scanned the small kitchen, taking in the mess and disorder he had created and then the elaborate meal he had prepared for them this morning. Porthos could see the moment something clicked in the teens mind as he sunk into one of the chairs next to Athos. 

For years, Aramis had gone about his business, doing what he had to do to survive, but always alone. The freedom of knowing he didn’t have to answer to anyone had given him a sense of security and confidence, but now looking around him, he finally saw what the others saw; someone who was not dealing with his problems well and was trying everything to hide it. Like the stack of pancakes, he had always just piled things on top, hoping to eventually hide how he really felt. 

Meeting Athos’s steady gaze, he nodded; fully aware that Porthos was watching his every move. “Okay, I’ll go with you,” he agreed quietly, his voice sounding tired and exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All typos and errors are my own. 
> 
> Any guesses on Aramis' back story yet? We're getting there. And I have a not so pleasant surprise waiting for you all in the next chapter.


	6. Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The statement was so random and out of the blue, that it took everyone by surprise; well almost everyone. Athos’ head snapped around to face the teen, a look of shock and hurt flickering trough, while Porthos opened his mouth to scold him but Ninon held out a hand to stay him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, but I've been getting future chapters organised to really make sure everything lines up.
> 
> Either way, things will be moving along from here on out; both emotionally and dramatically. We'll learn about both Aramis and Athos shortly (you'll be able to see how your theories match up) and we'll finally get to see Constance!
> 
> Hope this continues to live up to your expectations and feeds your curious tooth.

The next few days were a little tense, to say the least. Athos continually eyed Aramis with concern whenever he thought the teen wasn’t looking, and Aramis continued fussing about the apartment, cleaning and tiding things that hadn’t seen a speck of dust in days.

Porthos sympathized with the teen, and even he couldn’t help the nervous knot that had pitted itself in his stomach. He figured this odd routine would continue until the social worker came for the assessment visit; of which Porthos had thought should have been yesterday. He had considered calling just to make sure he hadn’t gotten to date wrong but decided to wait another day, maybe they were busy.

As it turned out, he never needed to cal after all.

Both Porthos and Athos startled slightly at the sound of the buzzer, before the older man moved to the small screen to allow the guest entry. From the screen he could easily see the Child Services ID badge hanging around the man’s neck and so he clicked the button to unlock the doors. Living in an apartment building did have its perks; the only people who called at the door had a reason to be there. 

“It’s the social worker,” Porthos explained as calmly as he could, as he quickly shoved shoes and coats that were lying near the door into the nearby closet. Before he knew it, the assertive knock on the door signaled the arrival of the awaited social worker.

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to slow his racing heart, he opened the door to greet the man, mentally wondering where Athos was, having expected him the join him in the entrance.

“Hello,” Porthos extended his hand in greeting, “I’m Porthos duVallon.”

The man scrutinized him from head to toe, making Porthos feel very uncomfortable as he waited with his hand still outstretched. “Rochefort,” the man simply offered after a few seconds. When he did finally reached out to shake the offered hand, Porthos had the distinct feeling the man didn’t like physical contact, as the gesture was quick and cold.

“Tell me,”Rochefort gazed about the front entrance, seemingly disinterested in the conversation, “is it a habit of yours to allow random strangers into your building before verifying their identity?” His voice drawled in a flat monotone as his gaze finally landed on Porthos.

Porthos was taken aback by the question, which seemed more like a statement. All the people he had ever dealt with at children services were always warm and approachable, but this man was the total opposite. He wore his blonde hair a little long and it was slicked back, his blue eyes were cold and piercing, and his lips were pulled tight into a thin line. His entire presence was not inviting. 

And then there was the way he carried himself. In his line of work, being able to read someone could mean the difference between life and death; everything about this man made Porthos’ skin crawl. He carried himself as if he thought himself above others, keeping his head tilted upwards with his chin pointed out prominently which made him seem slightly taller than he really was.

“Well then, where is the child in question,” Rochefort moved passed Porthos, glancing around as he went, completely ignoring the fact that Porthos had never answered his question. He surveyed the living room before jotting down a few things in the folder on the clipboard he was holding. 

Slightly stunned, Porthos closed the front door and led him around the corner to the kitchen, where he assumed Athos still was. Sure enough, Athos was still standing on the chair by the stove still stirring the pasta sauce, although he was eyeing the hallway that lead to the front entrance.

As soon as the two came into view, Athos’ movements slowed noticeably and his eye grew wide as he studied the new arrival; his instincts telling him the same thing Porthos was feeling.

Rochefort turned to face Porthos, his eyebrow raised in amusement. “And you believe this to be a safe practice?” He indicated towards Athos with his pen.

“Athos and I were just making dinner,” Porthos quickly explained. True he supposed letting a five year old stand on a chain by the stove stirring a boiling pot of pasta sauce may not be the safest but Porthos loved how the kid light up when the older man included him in small tasks. Everything from cooking dinner to cleaning the house seemed to light up the boy’s eyes with wonder.

There was something both warming and heartbreaking about those simple moments. How could someone, even a five year old, be so marveled by such mundane tasks. He knew that his father did not care about the boy but these were hints of just how deep the neglect went. “Would you like to join us?”

“Sir, I will not be bribed or swayed in anyway,” Rochefort spoke slowly but without hesitation, his voice dripping with menace. “However to attempt to do so does not bode well in your favor.”

Porthos’ heart sank at the misunderstanding. “No, no it’s nothing like that. We were just getting ready to sit down to eat.” The other man held his gaze a while longer before turning his attention back to the kitchen. The table had been set and it seemed the sauce was probably ready.

“I have a job to do, of high importance, and would rather spend my time doing so. If you don’t mind, I’d like to see the rest of the home.” Porthos nodded and indicated towards the living room, inviting the social worker to explore their home.

As Rohefort headed towards the living room, scrutinizing every inch and noting various things in his file, Porthos crossed towards Athos and lowered him to the ground, noticing how the boy clung to his hand, refusing to let go.

“Yeah, I know. But don’t worry about it, it’ll be fine.” Porthos reassured as he moved the sauce off the hot element and turned it off. He supposed their meal would have to wait till after Rochefort left.

“Is this the boy’s room?” The voice, though not loud, carried through the apartment, and it held an authoritative tone to it that suggested he was not a man who liked to be kept waiting. Smiling down at Athos, Porthos held his hand a little tighter and headed towards the bedrooms, five year old in tow.

They found Rochefort in Athos’ and Aramis’ shared bedroom. 

“Tell me, is this the boy’s room or is it the first one?” Porthos was starting to wish the man left as soon as possible. With Aramis, it had been different. The social worker then had barely even looked around before declaring that it was good enough for him; and Aramis didn’t actually have a bed at the time. This man, however, seemed to be looking for reasons to take Athos away.

Without waiting for an answer, the man continued. “I’m to understand there is another person living here,” his voice drawled in apparent disinterest. “A runaway teen who refuses to reveal his true identity, no doubt a thief and a delinquent then.” Athos tensed at the slander towards Aramis. 

“His name is Aramis, and he’s at work today till 7today,” Porthos explained, silently thanking the God Aramis believed in so much for that small favor. He could just imagine how much this man’s personality would clash with the teen. 

For the next twenty minutes, Porthos answered a variety of question about his work hours, Aramis’ work hours, his social life, financial stability and family background. Rochefort made a slight sneer when Porthos explained he was orphaned at a young age when his mother died and had grown up in the foster care system. It was only near the end of his explanation that he noticed Athos was looking up at him, an unreadable express on his face. Not quite sure why, Porthos merely smiled at him and squeezed the small hand that was still tightly clutched in his.

Eventually Rochefort turned his attention to Athos, making the small child inch further behind Porthos in an attempt to hide. “Are you ever left in the apartment alone?” It was here that Porthos pin-pointed exactly what was off about this man. For someone who worked closely with children on a daily basis, he gave the impression that he did not like them, nor have the patience for them. He made no effort to change his tone when he addressed Athos, instead questioned him with the same accusing tone he had used with Porthos. Nor did he seem to notice, or care, that he was scaring Athos.

“Are you unable to speak, boy? Answer the question, it’s not difficult.”

Porthos bristled at the way he addressed Athos. In that moment Porthos couldn’t understand how someone like this could be hired by children services to deal directly with children who have lived through a trauma of some kind. “His name is Athos, not boy,” he chose his words carefully, placing himself a little more in front of the child to shield him. “And he is able to talk but chooses not to.”

Rochefort considered that a while longer, never letting his gaze leave Athos, before making a small hum to himself and noting something in the file. The silence was deafening, the only sound being the awful scratch of pen on paper. 

“Is there anything else?” Porthos finally asked, unable to bare the silence much longer.

“No need, I’ve seen everything I need to see,” came the monotone reply as Rochefort didn’t even look up from what he was writing. “You’ll be hearing from us shortly.” 

As Rochefort left, the door closing behind him, both Athos and Porthos stood in the hallway leading towards the entrance, at a loss for words. Porthos could easily feel the small tremors through Athos’ hand; tremors that had started the moment Rochefort had addressed him directly. The resulting silence was tense.

“Good thing Aramis wasn’t here.” Porthos chuckled, despite himself, at Athos’ unique ability to hit the nail on the head. “That didn’t go well, did it.” It was more of a statement than a question, but Porthos knew he was still waiting for an answer.

“No.” There was no point in lying. He had learned weeks ago that Athos was smarter than any other five year old and even some adults he knew; his brain just seemed to always be three or four steps ahead of everyone else. “No it didn’t.”

When Aramis came home, his happy mood quickly vanished as he picked up on the tension between the other two, and his mood didn’t improve as they explained the entire visit, choosing to not let out any details. Aramis was visibly upset but there was no outburst, which surprised Porthos. Maybe the teen didn’t want to upset Athos any more than he already was, or maybe he understood that there was nothing anyone of them could do about it.

The next morning when the all assembled for breakfast, Porthos wasn’t surprise to see the dark circles under both Athos’ and Aramis’ eyes, evidence that neither one of them had slept well that night, although he had not been awoken by anyone screaming, so that was an improvement. There was little to no conversation and this time it was Porthos who continually tried to pull the other two out of their circling thoughts.

He dropped both boys off at their school, wishing them a good day and headed to work, finally having sometime of his own to think things through. D’Artagnan seemed to sense something was off, but instead of poking the issue, he just took lead on their cases, allowing the younger man time to himself. Eventually Porthos opened up, which was what D’Artagnan had been waiting for, and asked for his partner’s opinion on the matter. 

“Honestly,” D’Artagnan looked up from his coffee cup to make sur the man sitting in front of him was paying attention, “I think you’re doing everything you can. Just wait till you have a chance to talk to the child psychiatrist and see what she thinks. “

Porthos pondered the logic of that, something he had been telling himself but his own worry and the effort of having to constantly reassure the other two had been working away at his nerves. “You’re right, it’s just what happens if…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence.

“You can’t think like that, you know that better than anyone. What happens, happens and we’ll deal with it then. No sense in making a mountain out of a mole hill before the ground’s even broken.” D’Artagan watched as a weight seemed to be lifted off Porthos’ shoulders, and he took this opportunity to carry on. “On a different topic, I researched Athos’ history…”

“What? Why?” 

D’Artagan held his hands up to calm the other man, having fully expected the outburst. “Let me finish. I figured with the court date, it would probably be best if you knew about his past in case it came out during the proceedings. At least then you’d be better equipped to deal with any fallout.”

Porthos didn’t know what to say; he hadn’t even thought about that. He watched as speechless as D’Artagan pulled a manila file from the top draw of his desk and slid it across to the other man.

“Thanks..” he stammered, not really sure what else to say.

“It was Constance’s idea actually. Everything I found’s in there, and Porthos, it’s not an easy read.” 

Porthos took the file with a heavy heart. Just like with Aramis he felt like he was somehow betraying Athos’ trust but knew fully well that he couldn’t ask the five year for the information and he could expect him to deal with this alone; this was the best way. He nodded his thanks to his partner, forever grateful for the older man and his wife. He slid the file into his bag, not sure when he would have the opportunity to read its contents and pondering whether or not he should share this new information with Aramis.

***

Aramis shifted and fidgeted in his chair, his gaze studying the room restlessly. On either side of him sat Porthos and Athos, each doing their best not to stare or acknowledge the fidgeting teen. 

Porthos was not surprised that Aramis had kept his promise to Athos, despite his own personal uneasiness, and so here they were sitting in Dr de Larroque’s waiting room. The older man just hoped Dr. Ninon de Larroque was as good as her reputation perceived her to be with difficult cases, because he knew Aramis could be a handful; he had been on the receiving end of his temper more times than he could count.

When they were ushered inside by Thérèse, Ninon greeted Athos right away, asking him how school was going and if he had had a good week-end. Aramis watched with apprehension as the middle aged women easily conversed with the small boy. The teen also noted how all the tension and fear that he normally wore on his shoulders melted away. Despite all this, his instincts refused to allow him to let his guard down; they were all the same, and though he had promised Athos he would come, he had never agreed to talk to her.

“And am I right to guess this young man with you today is Aramis?” 

Aramis watched as Dr. de Larroque turned her attention to him as Athos nodded, though he figured she didn’t need the confirmation. He stood to his full height, meeting her gaze head on with fierce determination, his mask firmly in place and shutting everyone out. 

Notting the change in the teen’s stance, Porthos hoped Aramis could keep his quick tongue under control. Ninon, however, took it in strides, not showing any sign that she too had noticed the hostile greeting. She smiled warmly, telling him how glad she was to finally meet him and gestured towards the chairs assembled together near the desk. Porthos couldn’t help but noticed that Ninon had chosen to have everyone sitting together and not have the desk acting as a barrier between the two sides. Athos hesitated slightly, his brown creasing in confusion at the chairs, but Aramis, having never been here before, easily accepted the seating arrangement, taking the seat opposite Dr de Larroque, with Athos and Porthos on either side.

Ninon kept a light conversation going, engaging both Athos and Porthos actively and choosing to allow Aramis the choice to enter the exchange whenever he chose. Though she never addressed him directly, she also never gave the impression of excluding him, nor ignoring him. She allowed him to openly scrutinize her, and never gave the impression that she noticed his visible distrust.

“You are quite right Porthos, Athos should not need to be a witness in this case,” Ninon agreed, her lips a tight line, the only outward change in her demeanor to show her anger. “I’ll look into it, seeing as I am also responsible for Athos’ well-being.” 

Aramis let out a small huff at that, the first verbal sign of his distrust finally breaking through. Athos clenched his jaw, his shoulders tension visibly as Porthos moved to catch the teen’s eye to warn him; Ninon, however simply ignored it.

“On another note,” she continued fixing Porthos with her full attention. “I received the report from child services. It seems the social worker’s recommendation is for both Athos and Aramis to be removed from your care immediately.” The silence that followed was deafening. 

“What?” Oddly enough it was Athos who first managed to voice the one thing all three were thinking. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Don’t worry, you aren’t going anywhere. I happen to believe this living arrangement has been beneficial to your recovery and firmly believe that to place you in a different home at this point in time would be catastrophic.” She waited till the panic in Athos’ eyes vanished as he understood her words. She smiled and nodded before turning her attention to both Porthos and Aramis. “I was called for a professional consultation in regards to the case, I didn’t think you would mind my recommendation.”

“Thank you doctor,” Porthos finally managed to stammer out.

Her expression remained the same, but her voice was steady and her meaning loud and clear. “I didn’t do it for you. I told you when we first met that my first and foremost priority was Athos. In the short few weeks since his first visit with me, I have seen a positive progression in his recovery and to take away this stability,” she signaled the three of them, “would send Athos into regression.”

She waited till those words sunk in to each of them. “And though I have not had the pleasure of knowing you very well Aramis,” she turned her attention towards the teen, “I also believe that you have benefited from this living arrangement.”

Though Aramis wanted to nod in agreement, he sat perfectly still, not allowing any of his inner turmoil show. He finally understood why Athos liked her so much. Not once had she spoken down to Athos, paraphrasing things for him as if he was stupid. She spoke openly to everyone, making everyone feel involved and informed. But what struck Aramis the most was that she never once spoke to Porthos and Aramis about Athos as if he wasn’t there or couldn’t understand.

Flashes of doctors and nurses whispering at his bedside about him, not telling him anything other than ‘everything’s fine, just get some sleep’. He had not known what was happening then and it nearly tore him to pieces.

“If he’s getting better than why does he still need to come here?” His mouth spoke before his brain even realized what he was thinking.

Ninon pulled off her glasses patiently, as if she had been waiting for this. “He is getting better yes, but there are still a lot of things that we need to discuss.”

“Then you do think there’s something wrong with him,” he spat accusingly, almost springing out of his chair.

The statement was so random and out of the blue, that it took everyone by surprise; almost everyone. Athos’ head snapped around to face the teen, a look of shock and hurt flickering trough, while Porthos opened his mouth to scold him but Ninon held out a hand to stay him. 

“Aramis, I do not think Athos is broken or sick,” she started to explain slowly, keeping eye contact with the teen. “Sometimes people see horrible things and small parts of them just shut down cause they don’t know how to deal with it; it gets locked away. They aren’t broken or damaged or sick, they’ve just lock pieces of themselves away so they don’t get hurt again.”

From the teens reaction she knew she had hit the nail on the head. Aramis silently stared at her, cracks starting to appear in his carefully kept mask.

“I like to compare it to a painting,” she went on calmly. “When bad things happen, parts of the painting lose their color or get painted over with a different color. The picture now looks like it’s missing pieces but it isn’t really, everything still there. My job is to work away that new color until the original color starts to show again. Sometimes it takes a long time and the original color doesn’t look as clear or bright like it did before, but it’s there all the same.”

Aramis’ heart skipped a beat, he had never had anyone explain it to him this way. He had always felt like they were trying to cure him of something evil, or make him forget everything. But she was different, and it was no wonder why Athos loved her so much. She accepted him for who he was, missing pieces and all.

“They always said I was sick,” his voice sounded so small even in his own hears as his heart started to empty itself. “They said I wasn’t right.” His hand gravitated towards the scar near his temple; it was like something finally gave.

In that moment, he was blind to everyone in the room. He was back in his hospital bed, fighting the restraints with all his strength, demanding to see his mother and father. Everything was hazy, as if he was traveling through a fog and eventually his arms and legs grew too heavy for him to move, and his body sagged into the stiff mattress as tears streamed down his face.

The warm touch on his cheek brought him out of his nightmare. He blinked a few times until his eyes focused on Dr de Larroque. He hadn’t notice her move from her chair to crouch in front of him, her hand outstretched to cup his cheek.

“Aramis, I’m sorry for what happened to you,” her voice was soft as if she was addressing a skittish cat, as the sincerity of her words reached through the fog. “It was not right and you are a very strong and brave person to have survived.” 

When the tears started, it was as if Ninon had expected it. She quickly collected the teen in a tight embrace, and more surprisingly Aramis let her. For their part, Athos and Porthos could only look on as the exchange took place, unsure of what happened and of what to do.

Ninon, in one short visit, had managed to rip away the teen’s mask to reveal the deeper wound that just wouldn’t heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rochefort: Sorry, I just couldn't help myself.


	7. Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 DEAD, 1 IN CRITICAL CONDITION AFTER HOME INVASION  
> Tuesday, February 26 
> 
> (Savoy County)- Police are still at the scene of a home invasion that left three dead and one in critical condition at a family cottage this morning. Details are slowly being released by the police but it has been confirmed the victims are all members of the same family and are well known in the community.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER WARNING: mentions of sexual assault and violence in this chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> Because you all had to wait so long for the last chapter, here's the next one. I have been working on this one for months and I hope it works the way I envisioned; this chapter makes me nervous.
> 
> Keep an open mind, this chapter is different. Instead of me narrating what happened or have Aramis tell you himself (you'll find out why I didn't go this route later), I've decided to let you read what Porthos is reading.
> 
> I hope it answers your questions about Aramis and that it satisfies you all. As always, thank you for reading and please leave me a quick comment to let me know what you think.

Porthos sat at his desk. After what happened with Ninon, he felt like this was the only option. It broke his heart to see Aramis fall apart like that, and he hated that feeling of uselessness. It was at that moment he made up his mind that the best way to help the teen was to be informed.

He was curious about the teen’s past, but he was also afraid of what he would find.

And so it was with great trepidation and a heavy heart that he finally hit enter on the keyboard.

d’Herblay, René 

 

***

**3 DEAD, 1 IN CRITICAL CONDITION AFTER HOME INVASION**

Tuesday, February 26

(Savoy County)- Police are still at the scene of a home invasion that left three dead and one in critical condition at a family cottage this morning. Details are slowly being released by the police but it has been confirmed the victims are all members of the same family and are well known in the community.

A male in his 40’S and female in her late 30’s, were pronounced dead at the scene when police arrived just after 3 pm. The police received a 911 call from the male’s employer after he found the bodies on the property after the man failed to show up at work for two consecutive days.

The couple’s eldest daughter, 15, was found unresponsive and was immediately transported to hospital where she later died of her injuries. The second daughter, age unknown, remains in hospital in critical condition.

Police have begun an intensive search of the wooded area surrounding the cottage, and police dogs have also been brought in to aid the effort. There is no word on what the authorities are searching for at this time.

Police are treating this as a homicide and are asking anyone with information to contact them.

 

***

**BOY FOUND WOUNDED IN WOODS**

Wednesday, February 27

(Savoy County)- Police have confirmed a young boy, age not released, had been found after an hour long search of a wooded area surrounding a cottage where police recovered the bodies of a man and two females. The boy has since been transported to hospital and is listed in critical condition.

Sources confirm the boy was unresponsive, suffering from a gunshot wound and severe hypothermia, after being found in the snow. It is not yet known how long the boy had been out in the elements, but police estimate it may have been days.

This comes one day after police arrived at the scene of a vicious home invasion that left three dead, two at the scene and one in hospital, while a fourth victim remains in hospital in critical condition, all members of the same family. The forensic unit is on the scene assisting the investigation, and looking for any clues that could lead police to the perpetrators of this vicious murder.

Police are asking anyone who may have seen something out of the ordinary the night of Friday, February 22 to contact them.

 

***

**MOM, DAD AND DAUGHTER MURDERED**

Sunday, March 1

(Savoy County) – Police have confirmed the identities of the victims of last week shocking triple murder in a family country cottage. Henri d’Herblay, 41, and his wife Maria, 38, were pronounced dead at the scene, both found with multiple gunshot wounds. The couple’s two daughters were found in the home, unresponsive and with life-threatening injuries. The oldest daughter, Helena, 15, has since died of her injuries while the younger daughter, Sofia, 13, remains in hospital in critical condition.

The couple’s son, René, 9, was later found on the property after an exhausting search, which extended long into the night and the early morning of the next day. The boy was eventually located in the snow, half a kilometer from the initial crime scene. He was unresponsive when first responders’ attended to him and there is no word yet on his condition. All victims suffered gunshot wounds and multiple shell casings were found on the premise, thought police are not releasing the type of weapon used.

“I’m just in shock,” stammered one of their neighbors upon hearing the tragic news. “They were all really nice and decent people; can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt them.” Though this was the family’s cottage, the d’Herblay’s were well known in the tight knit community and spent most of their summers in the area.

Mr d’Herblay was a well-known mechanic in the area and when he failed to show up for work two days in a row, his co-workers grew concerned and his employer, having known the family for years, drove to the cottage knowing they had planned to spend the week-end in the country, where he called 911 after discovering the tragedy.

 

***

**POLICE REPORT – d’Herblay homicide**

Monday, March 9

When police arrived at the scene, mother and father were already deceased while the two daughters were unresponsive and in critical condition. Ambulances were called and the family was identified; one son was still unaccounted for. A seconde story window was broken and traces of blood were found leading away from the cottage. After a thorough sweep of the dwelling and surrounding structures (garage and shed), police fanned out into the surrounding forest looking for any signs of the boy.

Three hour and fifteen minutes into the search, rescuers found the boy huddle against a tree, bleeding profusely from a head wound. The boy was awake but unresponsive. When paramedics attempted to approach him, he became violent and had to be subdued before being transported to hospital.

The coroner’s office determined the time of death for both Monsieur and Madame D’Herblay was Friday, February 22 late night or Saturday February 23 early morning, while police only arrived on the scene Tuesday afternoon. The eldest daughter later died in hospital Tuesday night, succumbing to her injuries.

All victims suffered from gunshot wounds from a .22 caliber rifle. The father was shot twice to the back of the head at close range outside the dwelling. The mother was shot in the shoulder before being fatally shot in the chest; her body was found in the kitchen near the back door.

Police believe the individuals forced their way into the home, killing both parents quickly before finding the two daughters. The perpetrators then took the two daughters into the living room where the two girls were beaten and the sexually assaulted. It is our belief the perpetrators were unaware that the youngest son was also in the dwelling.

At one point, one of the individuals went upstairs and discovered the boy’s presence. The boy suffered one deep bullet graze to the right side of the head before escaping out a second story window and fleeing into the nearby forest, where he was found four days later.

The motive behind the vicious attack is unclear and police are following every lead possible.

 

*******

**MEDICAL EVALUATION – René d’Herblay**

Patient suffered a severe concussion from a fall from a second story window compounded by a deep laceration from a bullet graze to the right side of his head, as well as severe hypothermia.

He is being restrained pending a psychological evaluation. When the patient was admitted, he was disorientated and combative. He has since been sedated for his own safety while his injuries are tended to.

 

***

**MAN HUNT CURRENTLY UNFOLDING IN SAVOY**

March 14

(SAVOY COUNTY) – A massive manhunt is currently unfolding in the small rural community of Savoy, after police released the names of the two suspects they believe are responsible for the triple murder two weeks ago.

Brian James Murry, 23, and Duke Edwards Murry, 26, both of Savoy county, have been identified by police as the prime suspects of a homicide case that shocked the entire community, nearly three weeks ago. The brothers are known to police and have prior arrests, including breaking and entering.

Police have not released details, but they have confirmed they have evidence that link the brothers to the murders of Henri, Maria and Helena d’Herblay on the night of Friday, February 22, as well as the attempted murders of two other family members, who were present in the home at the time of the attack.

Police are considering these two individuals as armed and dangerous, and are advising the public not to approach the two brothers but to contact police immediately. It is believed that they are driving a black 1991 Ford pickup truck with a license plate reading L0A 23A.

 

***

**TENSE STAND-OFF ENDS WITH TWO IN CONSTODY**

March 16

(Savoy County) A tense stand-off ended with two suspects in police custody early this morning after the two barricaded themselves in a barn for 26 hours, to escape police.

Brian James Murry, 23, and Duke Edwards Murry, 26 are both in police custody facing a variety of charges including three counts of first degree murder and two counts of attempted murder in connection with the murder of the d’Herblay family late last month.

Shortly after police released the names of the alleged attackers, asking for the public’s assistance, the two were spotted at a nearby gas station where the attendant quickly called police. The Murry brothers then led police on a short car chase, weaving dangerously in and out of traffic at breakneck speeds before police managed to lead them out of the city.

The two then sped through the country side, attempting to escape police where they eventually came across a deserted barn where they barricaded themselves.

A brief exchange of gunfire occurred when police first arrived on the scene but no one was injured. The SWAT unit when then called in to diffuse the tense situation and bring the stand-off to an end nearly 26 hour after it began.

 

***

**OBITUARY – Henri, Maria and Helena d’Herblay**

It is with great sadness that the family announces the death of Henri and Maria d’Herblay and their oldest daughter Helena, tragically and suddenly February 22. They are survived by their two children, Sophia and René. Henri and Maria immigrated to the area 15 years ago with their young family and have since become an integral part of their community. They will be sadly missed by all. A Funeral Service will be held at Saint-Marguerite Church on Sunday, March 26 at 1 p.m, followed by a private internment. Donations can be made to any charitable organisations that help families in crisis.

 

***

**PSYCHIATRIC EVALUATION – René d’Herblay**

Dr Armand Jean Richelieu – psychiatrist

St-Mary’s Psychiatric Hospital

1254 Deschènes Lane

 

Week 1

The patient has arrived to St-Mary’s three weeks after suffering a severe concussion in a break-and-enter that saw the murder of three of his family members (Mother, Father and older sister). A younger sister has already been transferred to different psychiatric institution and is in critical condition, and suffering a severe mental breakdown.

Preliminary assessments show the patient to be combative and delusional, complaining of severe headaches. For his own safety he is confined to his room, often restrained and sedated. He has refused to take medication or food, and spends all hours of the day calling for his deceased parents; though it is unclear whether or not he is aware they are deceased.

 

Week 3

The patient has been more cooperative and has since been allowed freedom in the confines of his room. Though he still seems to be suffering from the effects of the head wound, he was not mentioned it in some time. When not sedated, he is plagued by nightmares, of which he refuses to talk about; though one could only assume relates to the night of his parents murder.

He is still refusing to eat half the time and struggles against the orderlies when it is time to take his medication. On most days, he merely sits on his bed with his knees pulled to his chest refusing to acknowledge anyone’s existence.

 

Week 14

The patient has slowly been reintroduced to the rest of the group, though he has not initiated any contact with any of the other residents and keeps to a corner alone. He is mostly calm but can become very agitated and needs to be returned to his room.

It has been sometime since he has asked about the whereabouts of his family, though there is still doubt in his eyes when he is told that his family members are dead. He also refuses to see any visiting family member. His maternal grandmother has moved to the area to be closer to both he and his sister (who remains in psychiatric ward for the terminal ill; no change in her condition).

 

Week 31

The patient has made some friends with other patients and his mood has improved considerably. He still refuses, however to participate in any group sharing or other group therapy session that require him to talk about his feelings. Likewise, he refuses to talk to any staff psychiatrist, instead spend his time attempting to distract and deflect the attention to elsewhere.

 

Week 49

The patient has regressed and returned to his violent and combative behaviour. This week marks the one year anniversary of his family’s murder. Though staff has been carful in regards to divulging the exact dates, as is the normal practice for this establishment, it did not seem to matter.

He continues to refuse to see his grandmother, who visits him every month, and sill dose not talk about his often debilitation nightmares or feelings.

 

Week 63

Progress has been made in his recovery. He has started a friendship with a new nurse, Adèle Bessette. He seems more willing to open up to her and speak more honestly. We shall use this in order to gain more insight into the patient’s psyche.

 

Week 79

Though the patient still seems reluctant to accept the death of his family, he is no longer a danger to himself, nor to those around him. As he refuses to participate in group therapy or any other form of therapy, it is my recommendation that he be discharged from St-Mary’s psychiatric Hospital and placed in foster care; as he was broken of all contact with any remaining family member.

 

Week 83

After the review committee meeting, it has been decided that René d’Herblay will be officially released from St-Mary’s Psychiatric Hospital. He is to be placed in foster care and will be required to continue meeting with a psychiatrist who will continually monitor his progress.

 

  *******

**POLICE REPORT – Brian James Murry - confession**

“Duke loved the oldest daughter, always said she was damn pretty, but she kept brushing him aside, or ignorin’ him; just made him want her more. Then one night, him and I been drinking and decided to drive over to talk to her.

Met the old man outside and he told us to leave, but Duke just laughed. Then I pulled out the gun we always kept in the truck and he made him kneel down before I put a few bullets in him.

We could hear the women calling out from the house and that’s when we saw her through the back screen door. It was easy to force the door open from her. She was screaming some crap in some language and she hit me in the face. Duke grabbed the gun and put an end to that. By then we weren’t quite sure what we was doin’ but we could hear voices in the living room.

We found Helena there, already in her pyjamas and the other one, the sister, was half way up the stairs. Duke grabbed his girl and I grabbed the other. We weren’t gonna hurt ‘em but they fought back. So Duke and I decided to teach ‘em their place. Damn girls had some fight in ‘em too, it was great. When they finally stopped screamin’ I thought I heard somethin’ upstairs so I went to check it out, took my gun with me. Duke was still busy with his girl so I went alone.

Found the kid up there and shot ‘im in the head but the little sucker didn’t die, just stumbled and took off. Crazy kid jumped out a window and everything. Figured he was gonna die out there, nowhere for miles for ‘im to go. So I went back downstairs to make sure my girl wasn’t too lonely, if ya know what I mean.

When we were done with ‘im, Duke shot them too, not too sure way cause I didn’t think they were going anywhere, then we left. Never thought the police would care so much about them Spanish. They should be protecting its own people.

 

***

**MURRY BROTHERS GET LIFE SENTENCE**

July 19, 2007

(Savoy county) – Brian James Murry, 24, and Duke Edwards Murry, 27, have both been sentence to serve three consecutive life sentences for the death of Henri, Maria and Helana d’Herblay on Febuary 22, 2006.

The Murry brothers were found guilty of on all counts brought against them by the crown: three counts of first degree murder, two counts of attempted murder, two counts of aggravated assault causing bodily harm, two counts of sexual assault, two counts of unlawful confinement, one count of break and entering with intent of causing harm and one count of illegal possession of a firearm.

The d’Herblay family cried with relief when the verdict was read but refuse to comment or speak with the media. The brothers will serve back-to-back-to-back sentences with no chance of parole and they are to be incarcerated in separate high security penitentiaries, as per the judge’s recommendation.

The sentences come one year and a half after the vicious attack on the d’Herblay family at their cottage, a crime that still shock the otherwise quiet community. The surviving children have not made any public appearances since the night of the murder and the family continues to ask for privacy on their behalf, refusing to even comment on their well-being or their whereabouts.

 

***

June 2008

 

**MISSING CHILDREN REPORT – RENÉ JOSEPH D’HERBLAY**

AGE – 11 (D.O.B. January 5, 1997)

EYES - brown

HAIR - brown

HEIGHT- 5 feet 4 inches

WEIGHT - 100 lbs

LAST SEEN - April 16 2008

 

René has a long scar above his right ear within his hair line. 

René was last seen around 9 pm when he went to bed the night of April 16 2008. His room was discovered empty the next morning by his foster parents. Police do not suspect foul play.

René may be delusional or disoriented, and may become violent if he feels threatened or cornered. He is fluent in both French and Spanish, and is most likely traveling alone by any means possible. Anyone who has seen him is asked to call police.

 

***

 

It took all of Porthos’ self-control to stop him from pulling Aramis into his arms in the tightest embrace ever when he finally made it home. For the first time since he had convinced the teen to spend the night on his couch, out of the storm, he felt like he finally saw the real Aramis; the one that has been hiding for years, trying to convince himself that everything was fine. For the first time he felt like he finally understood why Aramis acted the way he did.

He also had the sinking feeling that Athos had seen the real Aramis weeks ago, and the thought sat heavily on his heart. The old saying “takes one to know one” just took on a whole new meaning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're passing the tipping point very shortly and things are going to escalate really quickly from here on out. Stay tuned.


	8. Brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Porthos woke the next morning, he found Athos sitting on the floor against the dresser in his room, a piece of paper clutched in his small hands. “Athos, are you alright?” When Athos didn’t respond, Porthos leaned down to take the piece of paper from him. The sheet just slid out of his hands, and Porthos turned it over to examine it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, thank you everyone for your continued support; whether by kudos, comments, bookmarks, subscriptions or hits. It's overwhelming and encouraging.
> 
> Now, this chapter did not cooperate! I had it all typed out except for one part that I could not, for the life of me, properly describe what I was imagining. I just couldn't get the emotions right but I think I've finally succeeded. 
> 
> I take no responsibility for any angry or emotional outburst that may occur while reading this chapter.

Porthos did his best to carry on as normal, but both Aramis and Athos were much too observant of their surroundings to not notice the change. Every once in a while, he would catch one or the other staring at him suspiciously, but thankfully neither one voiced their thoughts.

They had had the meeting with the lawyers, Monsieur Cornet and Bertrand, and though they were very nice and considerate, they were honest with Porthos about their chances. The best outcome they could hope for was for Monsieur Gabriel de la Fère to loose custody of Athos. Since they didn’t want Athos on the stand any more than the kid wanted to be, they were trying everything they could to avoid that possibility. Unfortunately, the defence lawyer was calling into question the allegation that her client physically abused Athos at all. It seemed his dad was denying all charges against him and the only witness was Athos. If they wanted to keep him in jail, Athos would have no choice but to face his father in court. Porthos just hoped Ninon’s testimony would be enough.

After that long meeting, Porthos and Athos headed to the hospital for their next appointment. They got there just in time and were placed in an examination room to wait for the nurse and doctor. 

“Hello Athos,” Constance smiled warmly as she pulled the curtain aside, “are you ready to get this off?” She indicated his cast and waited patiently until he answered, nodding to her slowly while his gaze searched the room.

After weeks, it was finally time for Athos to have his cast removed. It was their luck that Constance was working a shift today and that she was going to assist the doctor. As soon as she had met them in the hall, Porthos could see Athos visibly relaxing.

“Alright, let me just get some of this other stuff out of the way first,” she slipped on her gloves and pulled a movable cabinet closer. Athos watched her every move closely, and Constance was more than aware of that fact. She moved cautiously yet with obvious purpose, narrating as she went along and keeping up a warm stream of conversation.

She took his blood pressure, and his weight, marking her findings in the chart. She was nearly finished when Athos’ shoulders tensed at the arrival of a new person in their small space.

“Hello there,” the man smiled warmly nodding to Athos and Porthos as Constance moved to the side. “I’m Dr Lemay.” He pulled a stool closer to sit in front of Athos at eye level. Constance had given him a little heads up about Athos when she had seen his name in Dr Lemay’s appointment schedule.

From the way the child was watching him now, he was thankful for the little advance warning. He took the chart and glanced over what Constance had noted, nodding in approval “I see you’ve gained some weight, that’s wonderful. Everything else is looking normal too, so what do you say we take a look at that arm.” He handed the chart back to Constance before reaching out for Athos’ arm.

Athos tucked the limb in closer instinctively, and fixed Dr Lemay with a very cold stare. Both Porthos and Constance moved closer as a result, ready to intervene.

“It’s alright,” Dr Lemay spoke calmly, well aware of Porthos positioning himself behind Athos. “I’m sorry Athos, I should have asked you first. May I please see your arm?”

Athos continued to stare at the man in front of him, distrust evident in his tense shoulders. With a little encouragement from Porthos, Athos did eventually hold out his casted arm to the doctor.

“Thank you Athos.”

Dr Lemay examined the arm at both ends of the cast, checking for any discoloration or tenderness, before nodding again and letting the arm rest on the side table Constance had just positioned. He took the small hand saw from her slowly.

“This is a saw, and I’m going to use it to cut through the cast.” He watched as Athos’ gaze shifted from him to the saw in his hand. Oddly enough, it didn’t stay long on the saw before his gaze traveled back to him. “Now it’s going to make some noise but I need you to be very brave and keep very still. Can you do that?”

Athos nodded, though his gaze did not leave the doctor’s face. Dr Lemay started the saw, letting it run for a few seconds in mid-air, before moving towards the arm that lay on the side table. Porthos saw the way every muscle in Athos’ body tensed when the doctor moved closer, and so he reached for Athos’ other hand, hiding a wince when the small fingers closed tightly around his. But Athos sat perfectly still.

With steady hands, the doctor skillfully cut through the cast in an impressively straight line. Dr Lemay had done this countless times and he was nearly confident in his skill to do it blindfolded. But this time he felt a little nervous. It wasn’t until he was almost done that he realised why.

In all his years of experience of working in pediatrics, never had a child stared at _him_ while he was removing a cast; all children stared at the saw as if they were paralysed by fear.

Athos, however, was staring straight into Dr Lemay’s face in a calm and calculating manner, as if he was well aware the biggest danger to him was not the saw, a simple tool, but the man who held it. This was wisdom beyond the normal comprehension of a five year old, and Dr Lemay even knew some adults who had yet to understand that.

When the cast had been cut through, Dr Lemay turned off the saw and set it back on the tray beside him. It wasn’t until the saw was safely returned to the tray that Athos turned his attention to his arm. He watched as Dr Lemay freed his arm, slowly testing the flex of his fingers. Finally a small smile pulled at the side of his mouth and Porthos was able to relax.

They took another x-ray just to make sure everything was fine, and Dr Lemay gave Athos a temporary brace to wear whenever he played sports or other physical activity where he could potentially hurt his arm. He explained that because Ath-os was so small for his age, he didn’t need to explain that he really meant malnourished and neglected, he just wanted to make sure his arm would heal with no lasting effects.

They said goodbye to Constance, and Porthos was surprised when Athos gave her a quick hug before heading back home. In the car, Athos sat there staring at his arm, turning it over and testing the strength, almost as if he didn’t really trust it’s ability yet.

Life carried on as normal for a little while; Porthos went to work, Athos and Aramis went to school, Athos visited Ninon once a week but always for his individual visits. But they all knew it was the calm before the storm, since the ominous court date was fast approaching. Suffice it to say, neither one of them slept well the night before and they all woke, ate and dressed in silence. 

The drive to the courtroom was much the same, and they weren’t surprised to find both D’Artagnan and Treville already there and waiting for them. They had decided that Aramis and Athos would sit outside in the hall and only come in if Athos needed to testify. Porthos had wanted to wait outside with them, but Aramis convinced him that he would be more useful inside since he was the only one who would probably understand what was going on.

“Don’t tell me she’s the defence lawyer,” D’Artagnan whispered to Treville, as a beautiful dark haired woman strode towards them. She smiled coyly as she approached the two men. 

“Gentlemen,” she acknowledged as she past them both and headed inside to meet her client.

“Who was that?”

“Milady de Winter,” Treville answered as he turned to face Porthos. “She’s one of the toughest defence lawyers in town. She’ll take any case, no matter if it’s right or wrong.”

Porthos had heard the name around the office, but he had never met her. She was notorious for representing known criminals and she was very successful at it. It was also publicly known that she had ties with Sarazin’s gang, often representing its member in court, but she never did anything illegal. She was a lawyer and they paid her for her services.

D’Artagnan continued to stare in the direction she went, tuning out the rest of the conversation. Eventually, he excused himself and headed inside the courtroom. It didn’t take long for him to find her; she was calmly taking out her folders and papers from her brief case, organising them neatly in front of her seat.

He was sure she had heard his footsteps approaching but she didn’t acknowledge him, instead keeping her back turned to him as she kept her hands busy.

“How can you defend him,” he asked plainly, “after what he did to that boy. I know you’re smart enough to know what kind of person he is.” D’Artagnan tried to keep his voice low, fully aware of all the people mulling into the courtroom.

She stopped, straightening her back and lifting her chin before turning to face him, her green eyes as cold as ever. “It’s a job, D’Artagnan. A client pays me to represent him, and I do my job. And what happened to the whole innocent until proven guilty?” Tough her tone was light and playful; there was no mistaking the edge to her voice.

“Anne,” D’Artagnan moved closer, keeping his voice low and trying to appeal to the girl he once knew, “you’re better than this.”

“Not all of us can afford that high moral road you’re on,” she spat back, her shoulders tensing back as her back went rigid. “I do what I have to do to survive. I always have.” She fixed him a second longer before turning back to her papers, the conversation clearly finished.

When the proceedings were about to begin, Porthos made sure that Aramis and Athos were alright. The two had found a bench near the door but just off to the side. Aramis struggled to sit still and babbled nervously while Athos was the complete opposite. He sat perfectly still on the bench and hadn’t said a word to anyone. At one point D’Artagnan had taken him aside earlier and crouched down in front of him to be at eye level. Porthos hadn’t heard what the older man had said, but he had seen the difference it made in the child. 

He made his way to sit next to Treville as D’Artagnan joined them with a grim nod. His gaze searched the room for one person in particular; Gabriel de la Fère. The man was tall and well-built, but he was also small in size. His hair was long and his beard, though grown in, was well groomed. Staring at his profile, there was no denying this was Athos’ father. 

Porthos had never really hated anyone, but this man came close. He had never spoken to him but there was something about him that Porthos just didn’t like. Every time he looked at his face, all he saw was Athos cowering in that cold attic, trying to protect his broken arm, and it just made his blood boil. No, this man wasn’t fit to be anyone’s father. 

The entire proceedings took less than an hour, but to the two sitting outside, it seemed to be taking all day. Athos and Aramis were the only two in the hallway, with the occasional office dressed adult walking passed with a leather suitcase. Aramis had long since abandoned trying to engage Athos in conversation, and so the two sat quietly side by side in the quiet hallway, waiting. 

Porthos was the first out of the courtroom and by the look on his face, Aramis knew it wasn’t good. The teen reached for Athos’ hand, sensing the child’s tight grip as the two stood to meet the older man. 

“I’m not letting them take him,” Aramis growled as Porthos stepped closer, the teen placing himself in front of Athos. 

Porthos let out a sigh, taking in a deep breathe. “Athos is staying with us,” he looked down at Athos to make sure he was listening as well. “You’re staying in foster care and they say that you are staying with me for the foreseeable future.” 

Aramis’ eyebrow raised as he continued to watch the older man, waiting for what he knew was the bad news. “Gabriel de la Fère was granted bail and all charges of child negligence have been dropped against him.” 

There was a moment of silence between the three while the implications of that set in. As realization hit, it was like Athos’ lungs had just deflated and all the air had left his body. Athos was too lost in his own thoughts to make out Aramis’ harsh tone as he and Porthos argued above his head.

He watched almost transfixed as a beautiful woman exited the courtroom, the same women he had seen earlier entering it. His attention, however was pulled to the man walking next to her; a man he would recognize anywhere.

As Athos stared unable to look away, the movements around him seemed to slow and his hearing faded, tuning out everything. Gabriel sensed the attention and turned to meet the child’s gaze, easily finding him amid the crowd of people who were filing out of the adjacent courtrooms. Noting the hint of horror and fear glistening in those small blue orbs, Gabriel de la Fère grinned, the corner of his mouth pulling up to show his teeth and he gave a quick wink.

Athos stood motionless as the colour drained for his face leaving him feeling cold and breathless. But still he found he could not tear his gaze away, and he watch the pair disappear down the staircase.

“Athos?” It was D’Artagnan who noticed him first. He and Treville had stayed behind to speak with their lawyers, and when they stepped out into the hallway, D’Artagnan easily spotted Porthos and Aramis off to the side having a rather heated discussion while Athos stood by Aramis, his focus somewhere else entirely.

It wasn’t until he got closer that he noticed how pale the kid was. “Athos are you alright?” This got Porthos and Aramis’ attention, and both pairs of eyes fell to the youngest member of the group. Aramis gave a small shake to Athos’ hand to get his attention when it became apparent the kid was still in a trance.

Finally Athos gave a startle and turned towards the teen. Blinking a few more times, he turned to study the other two men who stood around him, his small chest heaving as if trying to catch his breath.

Both Aramis and Porthos exchange a worried glance over his head, not sure what had caused this anxiety attack. Athos was pale, more than usual, and it seemed like he was having a hard time catching his breath. Though focused, his eyes seemed to be unable to concentrate on anything or anyone. Eventually, Athos’ gaze turned to meet D’Artagnan’s.

“Thank you for trying,” his voice was barely a whisper, as if all the life had been pulled out of him. D’Artagnan looked like he was going to say something but Athos had already looked away, his gaze returning to the top of the staircase.

D’Artagnan’s heart ached at the sound of that small voice. The system had already failed this small boy twice before; when his mother died and when the school never did a followed-up on those bruises. He had promised Athos that he would do everything he could to keep him safe from the one man he feared. And now he too felt like he had failed him.

Athos didn’t say anything else after that. He was quiet and allowed Aramis to steer him towards the car, and the three headed home. Porthos knew they should be happy the judge denied Gabriel de la Fère any custody rights for Athos, but the fact that this man was now free overshadowed everything else. He hated himself for not noticing the change in Athos in the hallway and he had no idea what had happened.

Aramis also seemed to have retreated in on himself. He was distracted and detached a behaviour that raised red flags in Porthos’ mind. But as much as the teen’s mood shift concerned him, Athos’ return to silence was worrying.

He hoped tomorrow morning they could all turn the page and forget the courtroom drama.

 

***

_He could hear his mother screaming, telling them to run, but no one moved. Finally it was Helena that grabbed his arm and shoved him towards the stairs, before she did the same to Sophia. He stumbled, not really sure what was happening but made it to the top just as Sophia was stumbling up behind him. Two loud noises echoed through the home, adding to the confusing._

_Next came different voices, voices he didn’t recognise and he stood frozen in place at the top landing and few feet from the top step._

_"Hide René.” Sophia whispered urgently as she continued to scramble up to last few steps. Before she reached them, she was pulled away, letting out a gut wrenching scream that cemented itself in his memory._

_Screaming and laughter filled his ears as he stood, still frozen in place. He tried to make sense of what he was hearing but a cold numbness was slowly taking over his body, tuning everything out._

_When the hands reached out to grab him, he fought. He fought with everything he had as tears spilled down his face._

 ***

 

When Porthos woke the next morning, he found Athos sitting on the floor against the dresser in his room, a piece of paper clutched in his small hands. “Athos, are you alright?” When Athos didn’t respond, Porthos leaned down to take the piece of paper from him. The sheet just slid out of his hands, and Porthos turned it over to examine it.

_“Athos and Porthos,_

_I’m sorry._

_I wished I was braver and could tell you this in person, but I don’t think I would have been able to walk out that door._

_For years, I’ve been hiding, not just from my past but from everything. Athos has shown me what true courage looks like and Porthos, you showed me strength, and it’s time for me to deal with everything I’ve been running from. I need to say goodbye to my past and bury it once and for all, and there only one way I can do that._

_Give me time, but I promise you both that I’m coming back. Just give me time._

_I love you both, remember that._

_Aramis”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was the scene at the courtroom that nearly did me in.
> 
> All the pieces have now been set into motion for the ending and I hope you've all been paying attention to the small stuff because they've been adding up.
> 
> Let me know what you thought.


	9. Understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the fourth or fifth day, Porthos had lost count, Athos sat at the breakfast table quiet and still, not making any attempt to touch his plate. He was pale, and the dark rims under his eyes from lack of sleep made him look sick. He had a sudden flash back of Aramis sitting in that same spot 6 years ago, looking pale, and sickly skin and bones, with dark haunted eyes that almost looked hollow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grab a Kleenex or a cat to help you get through this one, I know I did.
> 
> This chapter almost ended up being double the length of the others, and I even pushed some things back to the next chapter. We're getting towards the end, but that doesn't mean this emotional roller coaster is done yet; I still have a few cards up my sleeve. I promise to update as quickly as I can and vow to have this story finished by the end of the year. Thank you to everyone who took an interest in this story so far.

The following days were a blur. Porthos tried to be the pillar of strength he knew Athos needed, but he found it to be a herculean task when his own heart felt like it had been ripped out. He knew he was the adult and needed to be there for Athos but he didn’t know how to do that when every night found him sitting on his bedroom floor crying silent tears until the horrific sounds of Athos’ nightmares forced him to pull himself together.

The apartment felt empty and the two remaining occupants floated around like ghosts accomplishing day to day task as if on auto-pilot. Athos hasn’t said a word since they left the court house and he had started sleeping in his own bedroom, huddled in pile of blankets in the closet.

It was D’Artagnan and Constance who thankfully intervened to carry the heavier load. Constance made them casseroles and stocked the fridge and freezer as well as sometimes picking Athos up from school. Porthos wasn’t sure whether Athos trusted her enough to let her get so close to him, or just didn’t care anymore. Either way, he didn’t seem bothered by her constant fussing about; something that could be seen as a good or a bad sign.

At work, D’Artagnan took the lead on all their investigations and made countless excuses to explain his partner’s detached state of mind. He had even been the one to explain to the Captain, knowing Porthos was still too devastated to put it into words without breaking down.

Aramis’ departure left a huge whole in his life, the size of which had surprised him. He knew he loved Aramis like a brother but when he had first taken Aramis in, the boy was such a flight risk that Porthos had never allowed himself to admit just how much he thought of him as family. In those early months it was more of a surprise to wake up in the morning to find Aramis still there. Over time that surprise wore off but a part of Porthos, the part that remembered being orphaned and alone, never really let go of his cautious hesitation in admitting his true feelings. He didn’t doubt Aramis’ intentions on coming back, he just couldn’t allow himself to hope; not if it meant having his heart tore apart again.

And then there was Athos. At the ripped old age of 5, Athos had known more heartache and pain than anyone three times his age should. All the progress he had made in the last nine weeks had been erased. He no longer spoke, had returned to sleeping in the closet, and though he didn’t flinch at someone’s touch, Porthos concluded that the lack of any reaction from the boy was probably worse.

On the fourth or fifth day, Porthos had lost count, Athos sat at the breakfast table quiet and still, not making any attempt to touch his plate. He was pale, and the dark rims under his eyes from lack of sleep made him look sick. He had a sudden flash back of Aramis sitting in that same spot 6 years ago, looking pale, and sickly, skin and bones, with dark haunted eyes that almost looked hollow.

Seeing Athos sitting there shook Porthos out of his own self-loathing pity party that had consumed him.

“Athos,” he kept all the sudden panic out of his voice. When the boy didn’t look up or acknowledge him, he tried again. “Athos, aren’t you hungry?” Slowly as if through a fog, Athos blinked down at his plate then up at Porthos. 

Porthos practically lunged out of his seat to pull Athos into a tight embrace. Though the boy didn’t reciprocate, he also didn’t pull away. “I’m sorry Athos. I’m so sorry.” When Athos had turned his face towards him, Porthos had seen just how much these last few days had been, and not just because Aramis had left. Porthos was also to blame because to the five year old, it had felt like both of them had abandoned him at the same time; Aramis to his past and Porthos to his grief. At that moment Porthos silently vowed he was done with his grief and he now needed to concentrate on the one brother he still had.

Two days later, Porthos got a call from Athos’ school that sucked all the air from his lungs. Athos was missing. He was there in the morning but never came back in from morning recess. 

Millions of different thoughts battled for his attention as he stood there, paralyzed and unable to breathe. One name, however, jumped to front of his mind; Gabriel de la Fère.

“Porthos, go home to see if he’s there,” Captain Treville quickly took charge, seeing the younger man’s growing panic. “D’Artagnan take Dupont and go to the school to see what you can find out. Marcel, Vallois and Roy,”he called out to the other officers, “I need an amber alert for a missing 5 year old, Olivier de la Fère. D’Yvon and Blois I want you two to find out where the boy’s father is, Gabriel de la Fère. If he has anything to do with this, I want to know.” The officers burst into activity as everyone went to work.

Porthos sped through the city streets and made it back home in less time than it should have. The entire drive over he tried to convince himself that Athos had just gone home, and had not been taken by his abusive father. Unlocking the door, he ran in, his eyes searching for anything that may have been moved since they left just hours ago. The apartment was quiet and though Porthos tried to keep calm, it felt like his heart was ready to jump out of his chest. He forced his feet to move and his training took over. Quickly and efficiently he swept through the kitchen and living room, calling out though not expecting a reply, before making his way to the bedrooms. Empty, just like the growing pit in his stomach.

Nearly frantic now, Porthos raced back down the hall, only to come to an abrupt halt by Aramis’ bedroom door. It took his mind a few seconds to register what his eyes had seen that had him stopping mid run. He stared at the top of the dresser, unable to understand what had caught his attention, before finale realising it was more what hadn’t caught his attention. Athos’ mother’s book was missing. 

The book was there this morning, he had placed it there himself once Athos was dressed for school like he did every morning. When they got back home the kid would always go and make sure his precious book was still there. Puzzled, Porthos could only conclude that Athos must have taken it this morning before leaving. But why?

Porthos’ mind was consumed with these new questions as he drove to the school to meet up with D’Artagnan and Dupont, hopeful that they had found something useful. 

“His school bag is missing,” D’Artagnan informed as Porthos approached. “The teacher supervising said that he had asked her to go to the washroom before going outside. She didn’t notice he was missing until after recess when everyone came back in. At first she thought maybe the office had come to get him since his bag was gone but they hadn’t seen him either.”

Porthos scratched his head in frustration and worry, not trying to hid the fact his hands were shaking. “This doesn’t make sense. It almost looks like he left on his own, but where the heck would he go?” Porthos explained to his partner about the missing book as well. 

“I know you don’t want to think about it,” D’Artagnan started cautiously, “but we need to consider every options. What if he ran away?” At Porthos’ incredulous stare, the older man continued. “If de la Fère had kidnapped Athos, why would both, the book and his backpack be missing? We know Athos wouldn’t have just gone with him willingly and so why risk coming in the school to get his things?”

Porthos considered that logic. Assuming Athos brought the book with him to school and had it in his backpack, why would Gabriel de la Fère risk getting caught by school staff dragging a more than likely kicking and screaming five year old through the hallway, just to get his bag. No, Athos must have gotten his bag on his own.

But what was the five year old thinking? Where would he go?

He was beginning to panic again, having had a small respite from having had a task to accomplish. Now as he and D’Artagnan stood in the hallway with no helpful information and no leads, his heart was beginning to race again. He knew if Athos was kidnapped, the first 48 hours were crucial and they had already wasted 3. But if he had ran away, there was no way of knowing where to start looking. 

Fortunately he didn’t have to wrack his brain for an answer for too long. Dupont came running back, having just gotten a call from Captain Treville. An officer had just called in having found the five year old safe and sound, but the kid refused to go with him and so they would have to go to him.

Taking down the location D’Artagnan and Porthos headed out at a run, arriving only minutes later. Stepping out of the car, Porthos was filled with more questions, but for the moment all he wanted was to see Athos with his own eyes to make sure he was alright. They were at a cemetery, not far from the school, and at a distance amid the rows of tombstones he could just make out the top of Athos’ disheveled head with the police officer just off to the side.

Jogging threw the rows, he made it to Athos’ side, having given a brief nod as he passed the officer who had found him, and Porthos’ legs nearly gave out from underneath him as relief flooded over him. Though relieved to see the boy unhurt, he was a little concerned at the lack of response or acknowledgement. Athos was sitting in front of a tombstone, his book in his hands and his backpack on the ground behind him, seemingly unaware of anything else around him. Glancing up, the older man read the name on the tombstone, slightly surprised. Caroline de la Fère and Thomas de la Fère.

“He’s not here,” Athos finally whispered, still not turning to face the other man. “I looked everywhere but he’s not here.”

“Who’s not here?” Though the question slipped out, Pothos already knew the answer.

“Aramis.”

Sensing there was more, Porthos lowered himself down next to the small boy, throwing his arm around the small shoulders in order to calm his own beating heart and establish some form of physical contact. Athos leaned into the embrace, obviously needing the touch just as much.

“Why would you think Aramis would be here?” 

Athos hesitated, unsure of his own answer. “He said he needed to say goodbye to his past. When I had to say goodbye, I was here.” 

Porthos stared back at the tombstone, letting the boy’s words sink in. He must be talking about his mother’s funeral and saying goodbye before the coffin was buried. “But why did you think Aramis would be here?”

Still, Athos kept his gaze on the stone in front of them. “I thought everyone’s mamans and papas were here.”

It was moments like these that Porthos was reminded that Athos was a five year old boy. Looking around, he finally understood that Athos thought all parents were buried in the same place and so he had come here looking for Aramis, only to discover the teen wasn’t here at all. The adjacent tombstones all carried similar inscriptions, which to a child would certainly cause the confusion; beloved mother, father of Andrew, Mary and Sarah, dearest maman, and so on.

“Come here.” Porthos shifted to pull the small child onto his lap. Athos was pliant and settled easily in the older man’s embrace, clutching the book to his chest like a life line. He took a few deep breathes as the panic from earlier finally started to fade now that he was holding the small boy. He knew there was no point in addressing Athos’ early assumption since he was sure the boy had realized his own mistake, and so he asked the next question that was burning in him. “Why didn’t you ask me to come with you.” 

There was a long pause and Porthos was starting to wonder if Athos was going to answer. “I thought that if I found him,” the small shaking voice explained, “and if I brought him back, we could be a family again.”

Porthos fought back the tears that welled up in his eyes as he hugged the small boy closer to his chest and he lowered his head to rest on the top of the boy’s hair. “Athos, you are my family even if Aramis isn’t here,” he whispered into the tuffs of brown hair. “And I’m sorry for making you think I didn’t care. It’s just…. it’s been hard for me too.” Since the teen left, he had been keeping his own feelings inside trying to hide it from Athos but obviously that had been a mistake. “Aramis was like a brother, and he left me too.”

Athos shuffled until he was facing the older man and wrapped his arms around his neck, burying his face in Porthos’ neck. “I miss him too.” The two held each other tightly and cried both tears of relief and grief, a shared moment that they should have had days ago. Finally when the tears dried up and Athos’ breath evened out, Porthos pulled back to wipe away the wet streaks from the boy’s cheeks.

“Athos,” Porthos asked as a thought suddenly came to mind, “how did you know where your mother was buried?” The file D’Artagnan had given him had said Caroline de la Fère had died when Athos was 3 and a half. He didn’t doubt the boy remembered the funeral, but to know where the tombstone was when his father hadn’t seemed to type to bring his son to visit the grave was something else entirely.

Athos grinned slightly at his own intelligence, “I saw the cemetery weeks ago when I was walking to the sub-way station with Aramis. I recognised the angel statues because the priest had said that maman was with the angels now.” Porthos blinked a few times before looking around them. Sure enough, just off to their left stood a large grey cement statue of an angel, perched protectively above a tombstone and standing easily two feet above anything else in its vicinity. 

Holding Athos at arm’s length, he tipped his head down to stare Athos in the eyes, making sure he had the boy’s full attention. “Athos you can’t just take off like that, it was dangerous and I was very scared.” He spoke softly so as not to scare him, but letting all of his fears leak into his words, hoping to get his message across. When Athos’ head dipped down to stare at his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden change in the conversation, Porthos gently tilted his chin up. “You really scared me today. I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you. Promise me you won’t ever do that again.”

Slow tears began rolling down Athos’ cheeks again as he nodded his understanding. “You came to find me, no one ever came to find me.” The small admission brought a smile to the older man’s face as he wiped the new tears from Athos’ cheek with his thumbs.

“Always kid, always.”

Brushing off the leaves and grass from their pants, the pair made their way back, hand in hand, across the rows of tombstones and flowers, towards the car and D’Artagnan, their steps lighter and their shoulders less tense.

“It must be hard not knowing where your maman and papa are sleeping,” Athos’ spoke as they were halfway back. “Not being able to say goodbye. Do you think Aramis knows where his parents are?”

“I don’t know,” Porthos admitted, trying to understand what the five year was thinking. “Maybe, why? Do you think that’s where he went?” Porthos mentally started going over what he remember from the file.

“That’s where I would go.”

He was right. For five days now he had been so consumed that he hadn’t even considered the likelihood that Aramis had gone back to Savoy, to his home and to where everything had started. Once again, it seemed that Athos’ mind was ahead of everyone else’s, allowing him to think more rationally than most adults would in a similar situation. At this point he really didn’t know what Aramis knew or remembered but it was as good a place as any to start looking. There was just one other thing that had been chewing at him since he searched René d’Herblay, and if he was going after the teen, he needed as much information as he could get.

***

“Porthos, I must say I was surprised to receive your call. Is everything alright? How’s Athos?” Ninon lead him into her office before closing the door behind him and taking a seat at her desk, while Porthos sat in the chair facing her.

“ We’re doing alright, better now. But I need to ask you about something else.” He watched as Doctor Ninon de Larroque’s expression grew serious as she took in his nervous and uneasy body language. Taking in a deep breathe to calm himself, Porthos rubbed his hands together to keep them busy before deciding to just ask her directly. “What do you know about Doctor Armand Jean Richelieu?”

Ninon took a few moments before answering, trying to understand how this all fit together. “He was the lead psychiatrist and physician at St-Mary’s Psychiatric Hospital for many years but it is his theories on experimental drug therapy that has gained him more attention, albeit negative.” She allowed Porthos a few seconds to process the information, “What is this really about?”

Deciding he needed to trust someone if he was going to help Aramis, Porthos took a leap of faith, something he had only done twice before; with Aramis and Athos. “He was Aramis’ main physician for about a year and a half when he was at St-Mary’s. Aramis never said anything but something’s just off, like he can’t really remember.”

As Ninon listen, her express grew darker. She had read doctor Richelieu’s study on experimental drug therapy cover to cover and she had not agreed with the basis behind it. “What do you know of the study?” 

“Not much. I searched but there’s not much off it made public.” It had been a very frustrating few days of searching, with no results despite having found mentions of the study reference in other works.

“Doctor Richelieu,” her dark tone betrayed her otherwise neutral exterior, “believed that patients who had survived a traumatic event could be made to forget it entirely through drug therapy. All of his publications were only theories of course, since he was never allowed to proceed to the experimental phase of his study, due to a violation of human rights.” 

She paused, allowing the other man to fully process what was being said and make connections with whatever information he already had. “It was rumoured, however, that he used the patients at St-Mary’s as experimental case studies, without authorisation or their consent. Nothing was even proven and the study, he claimed, had only even been theoretical.”

Finally, the missing piece of information that helped explain Aramis to his core slid into place. For the first time since he had met that feverish malnourished boy on the streets all those years ago, he finally had an understanding of what he had gone through. The image of Aramis, restrained and drugged out of his mind flashed in his thoughts and he had the sudden urge to punch something. The horrors that boy must had endured in that hell hole were too much to fathom, and it must have been sheer determination that had allowed the youth to leave that place with some shred of his sanity.

“Porthos, where’s Aramis?” 

Ninon’s voice cut through his mental tirade, making him realize he must have zoned out. “He took off after Athos’ trial. He said he needed time to sort things out and he’d be back, but...”

“…you aren’t sure he will be,” she finished for him. She had noticed the teen had been acting differently, more erratic at the courthouse but since she had only met him once before, she couldn’t say for certain. Looking back, however, all the signs had been there and she assumed Porthos had seen them too, but the man’s attention had been focused on the youngest member of the family. “What will you do?”

“I’m going after him,” Porthos answered easily. “I know Aramis means to come back, it’s just he sometimes gets lost in his own head and I’m afraid I might lose him for good.”

“Then you must have an idea of where he went.” Ninon stated more than ask.

“Athos, of all people, gave me a pretty good idea of where to look.”

“Be careful Porthos, there’s no telling what state of mind he might be in when you do find him. He could be violent or entirely different than the Aramis you knew.” Even though she had not read through Aramis’ file like Porthos had, Ninon was good at what she did and had easily read the teen like an open book when he had stepped into her office.

Nodding his understanding, he stood up and thanked her for her time, promising to keep her updated if he got more information as well as promising to make sure Athos didn’t miss his next appointment.

Driving back home, Porthos allowed her last words to circle in his mind. Deep down, Porthos had come to the same conclusion about Aramis’ possible behavior but there was always that small part of him that kept saying everything was going to be fine. Though he held onto that hope, for Athos’ sake, the police training had him thinking through multiple possible outcomes, varying between the best and the worst scenarios. One thing became clear as the logical part of his brain took control, was that he could not take Athos with him.

He could not justify taking a five year old into possible danger, placing him deliberately in harm’s way if he was to find an unstable teen instead of the loving and caring Aramis they had come to know. No, Athos was not coming with him.

Fortunately for them both once again, D’Artagnan and Constance were more than happy to watch over the boy while Porthos went out to find the wayward teen, and Athos, though unhappy to be left behind, understood the older man’s decision.

Athos was a little hesitant around D’Artagnan at first, like he couldn’t decide whether or not he should trust the older man. He had mostly taken his cues from Porthos and Aramis, and seeing as they both trusted the man completely, he had allowed his guard to descend a little. As he spent more time with him, he felt an odd connection to the older man, one that left him feeling slightly confused. He understood why he cared so deeply for Porthos and Aramis, he loved them like he would a brother, but D’Artagnan just made him feel safe and secure, even when the man wasn’t even speaking to him. It was strange and far beyond his comprehension, so like any other rational five year old, he stopped thinking about it.

And then there was Constance. She reminded him of his mother with her easy smiles and tight hugs, but she didn’t always act like he remembered his mother had. His mother had always been well dressed and well spoken, always telling him to stand proud and tall no matter what but never berating him if he acted like a child. She was kind but he could tell there was something missing between her and his father. It didn’t know what it was then, but he could now put a name to it; love. Watching D’Artagnan and Constance when they were together was every bit what he had been missing in his home when his mother was still alive, and even more so afterwards. No, it wasn’t hard for Constance to sneak past his well-guarded exterior and Athos found that he didn’t mind the intrusion at all.

After having settled Athos at the D’Artagnans home and telling him he would be back in four days’ time with or without their missing brother, Porthos set out towards Savoy, determined to find the teen.

**

Pulling up to a small house, Porthos checked the address one last time before turning off the ignition and making his way to the front door. The little house sat in the middle of a beautiful flower garden, the fragrant scent reminding him of paradise while the quaint home with its shutters and high gabbles making him feel welcomed.

Suddenly feeling watched, he straightened and knocked softly on the pale yellow door. It wasn’t long before the small curtain covering the side window shifted a little to reveal an elderly woman with a head of white curly hair. 

“I’m not interested monsieur,” her small voice penetrated through the window pane, “please leave now.”

“Madame Vallejo, my name is Porthos du Vallon,” he slowly moved to pull out his badge to show the elderly woman, “I’m actually looking for your grandson, René d’Herblay.”

She studied the badge from the safety of her house, “I haven’t seen René in years, I have no idea where he is. Please leave me be.” She started pulling away, the curtain falling back into place.

“I have. “ Deciding to change tactics, Porthos pulled out his phone, quickly shifting through the images he had taken. “Up until last week he’d been living with me.” That had the desired effect as the small curtain was pulled back once more as Madame Vallejo peered out once more to study the man on her front step. Porthos held the phone closer to the window, so she could clearly see the picture of a smiling Aramis hugging Athos while the younger boy laughed. 

The curtain fell back and seconds later the door was pulled open, shocking Porthos slightly. 

“Mi nino! You’ve seen René? Is he alright?” Tears welled in her eyes as she stepped closer her full attention on the picture of her grandson she had long since given up for lost. “Please come in.”

Porthos followed the elderly women inside her home to the kitchen, where she insisted on serving him tea and biscuits before wanting to know everything he knew about her lost grandson. He knew he didn’t have the time for this but he also couldn’t deny her information on her grandson. He spoke about finding the boy and convincing him to come spend the night in a dry, warm place, about the years of adjusting and finally to adopting Athos. Now the conversation shifted as Porthos began asking questions.

“After what happened, he was taken to St-Mary’s,” her voice sounded delicate as she recounted the most traumatic time of her life. “I tried to visit him, but his physician would turn me away, saying that he was too weak to receive any visitors.” 

“But you didn’t think that was true.” 

She shook her head. “They wouldn’t let me see my grandson. I went once a week every week and they never let me in. The doctor, Doctor Richelieu, felt he knew what was best for my René and refused to give me any information on his recovery. Then one day they tell me he was gone.” Fresh tears starting pooling in her eyes at the thought of being told Aramis was gone. “They never told me where or with who, just gone.”

Instinctively, Porthos reached across the table to take her hand in his, willing to offer her any kind of comfort he could. He had been a cop for a few years and had sat with family members many times having similar discussions but for some reason, this one reached him on an entirely new emotional level. He had been told once, by a woman, that once you have kids, every story you read or hear in the news becomes a nightmare centered on the thought of what if that had been my child? It wasn’t until that moment sitting in Mrs Vallejo’s kitchen holding her hand that Porthos allowed himself to admit he cared for both Aramis and Athos like he would if they were his own children. He suddenly felt like a giant grizzly bear ready to tear anyone and anything apart to keep either one of them safe.

When Porthos finally left Mrs Vallejo’s, his mind was busy trying to piece together all the new pieces of information with what he already knew. Slowly, he was starting to get a clearer understanding of what had actually happened to Aramis that year and a half he spent at St-Mary’s. The doctor’s report stated that Aramis had refused to see his grandmother, but she was adamant that she had been purposely prevented from seeing the youth by the staff. There was really only one more person he needed to talk to and thanks to Mrs Vallejo, he had a good idea of where to find him.

At first he was sure he had taken a wrong turn, wearily eying the overgrown driveway before turning in and following its winding path before the dense forest opened into a meadow. There near the far side along the woods, stood an old cottage.

Though the grass had been allowed to grow wild and the exterior had aged with neglect, the house itself looked to still be good condition. Stray beer bottles littered the porch, a tell-tale sign that teenagers had used the abandoned property as a hang out, but Porthos’s attention was entirely fixed on the opened front door and the muddy boot prints that lead to the interior.

The floor boards creaked under his weight, piercing the otherwise deafening silence. “Aramis?” The words echoed through the empty rooms and Porthos slowly continued across the living room before heading for the staircase on a gut feeling. Midway up the stairs he came across some more boot prints, confirming he was in fact in the right direction.

Pausing at the top of the landing, he glanced around easily finding the boot print trail left in the layer of dust that covered the hardwood floor.

“Aramis? Are you up here?” He wasn’t really expecting a reply but he also didn’t want to surprise the teen. Slowly he made his way towards the first room on the right following the foot prints. 

Sitting against the far wall near a window sat Aramis, hunched with his legs pulled in to his chest and his head resting on his folded arms above his knees. Though Porthos knew Aramis had heard him come up, the fact that he made no acknowledgement made it hard to judge the teen’s mood.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you,” Porthos decided to try a calm and direct approach as he inched forwards, well aware of Aramis penchant for sudden emotional outburst. “You had us all worried.”

As he got closer, Porthos could hear Aramis’ ragged breathing and could see the teen was trembling. His right hand was busy tracing its well-known path through the tangles of unruly curls, along the only visible mark of all that Aramis’ had lived through.

“I don’t remember,” the chocked up voice filtered out from behind the arms, as Aramis’ entire body starting shacking more violently with fresh tears. “I can’t remember what happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always like to know what you are thinking, and to see your inner speculations of things to come. How many thought Daddy dearest had snatched Athos?
> 
> As always, all mistakes are my own.


	10. Breathe, part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It was all real…” Aramis eventually stated in a hushed voice as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks as he stared at the last page. “I’m not losing my mind, it was all real.” And then the tears of utter sadness took over as he was finally allowed to accept the loss of his entire family, and grieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay, but between work, family and the awesome fanfiction on this site, I've barely had time or energy to work on my own story. 
> 
> As it stands, it's late and though I've proof read this chapter twice already, there are guaranteed to be mistakes. Sorry. I've decided to split it in two since I'm not quite done with the other half yet but didn't want to keep you all waiting much longer.

“I don’t remember,” the chocked up voice filtered out from behind the arms, as Aramis’ entire body starting shaking more violently with fresh tears. “I can’t remember what happened.”

In a second Porthos had closed the distance between them and pulled the teen into a tight embrace. He could do nothing against his own tears that spilled down his cheek and he didn’t even bother trying to tell the teen any comforting words. Aramis needed this more than anything else and Porthos was just thankful that Athos had made sure the teen wasn’t alone to work through it.

Minutes passed before the sobs subsided and Porthos waited patiently while the teen worked to get his breathing under control. Allowing his embrace to convey his comfort, Porthos waited in silence for Aramis to speak. This wasn’t going to be like the other times where Porthos would offer him reassuring words and put a band-aide on the gaping wound and hope for the best. No, he was determined to cure the wound of the infection that had been festering all this time before covering it with a bandage to give it time to heal. And so the two sat in comfortable silence as Aramis organized his shattered thoughts.

“I thought if I came back,” Aramis started his voice low as if not trusting it yet, “that maybe it would help, but it’s all still a blur.”

Porthos reached out to stop the teen’s right hand, like he had on numerous occasions before. “Why don’t we start with what you do remember, and then fill in the gaps,” Porthos offered logically.

Slowly, Aramis pulled back to stare the older man in the eyes. “You know don’t you,” he stated rather than asked. Porthos sucked in a breathe waiting for the emotional explosion he was sure would follow, but to his surprise the teen merely crumpled in on himself, as if the fight had all drained from him. “You’ve been different since we went to see Ninon and I couldn’t understand why.”

Damn, Porthos thought. He had gotten used to the fact that he couldn’t hide anything from Athos, but he had completely misread Aramis. “I searched your name and your missing person’s report came up, along with your file records,” he spoke honestly, glad to be rid of that secret. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk about it.”

Aramis let out a huffed chuckle, wiping the tears from his cheeks as he leaned back against the wall. “I remember my family, then Mama was letting us stay up late to watch a movie and then…” he trailed off, his eyes staring off into the distance unfocused. “…then I’m in a house with strangers, foster care.”

Porthos bit his lip to keep him from interrupting, instead waiting patiently for the teen to continue. Surely the teen remembered more than that.

“Then there’s the nightmares,” the teen finally continued, his voice loosing strength. “I sometimes I see things happening like it’s real but I can’t do anything. It feels strange and sometimes when I wake up, I can’t remember what happened but I feel terrified, cold and scared.” His shoulders began trembling again as the memories resurfaced.

Never had Porthos seen these raw emotions currently on display. Some nights he had come close but the teen had always reeled himself back, his carefully constructed mask plastered back in place. 

“I thought I knew, but then I see something new. It’s like my mind can’t decide what’s reall and what’s made up.” Aramis made no attempt at wiping the tears that were streaming down his cheek. “I feel like I’m going insane.”

With as much strength as he could without crushing the teen, Porthos held Aramis in a tight embrace trying his best to offer as much comfort as he could. It weighed heavily on him to know that behind his charming smiles, Aramis had been struggling with self-doubt and the thought that he was crazy.

“You’re not insane Aramis,” Porthos whispered calmly when the teen’s sobs seemed to have subsided. “A lot of bad things happened to you that weren’t your fault.” Here he pulled back to hold the teen at arm’s length to be able to make eye contact. “Aramis, you are not insane,” he repeated when the teen had not reacted.

The teen stared back as if in a daze at first before blinking away the fog in his mind and finally allowing the older man’s words to sink in. “How can you be so sure?”

A slight grin pulled at the edge of his lips as Porthos replied, “Because I’ve seen some crazy people and kid, you are far from it. Besides, I don’t think Athos would trust a crazy person.” The comment brought out a small chuckle from the teen.

“So what happens now?” The teen asked, not sure he wanted an answer. The thought of returning home, though welcoming as it was, was also a source of anxiety for the teen. What if this was all just another lie like the foster home people. What if Porthos was going to bring him back there instead. He hadn’t realised his breathing had increased to the point that he was now gasping for breath.

Seeing the building anxiety attack, Porthos quickly instructed the teen to bend his head forwards and take deep long breaths until the fit passed. He traced gentle circles on the teens back while he waited patiently for him to compose himself and get his breathing under control. 

“First off, nothing is going to change, you understand?” Porthos started to explain once Aramis had calmed sufficiently. “I’m not going to drop you off somewhere and leave you so there’s no point in getting yourself all worked up like that again. I think it’s time tough that you know the truth so that brain of yours can stop mix you up.” 

Aramis felt weak as he struggled to stand but Porthos’ firm grip ensured he wouldn’t stumble or lose his balance. For the first time in years, Aramis felt more self-assured and confident, and the smile that spread across the teen’s features managed to chase away the fog and shadows from his eyes. 

Porthos lead him down the stairs and outside towards the car, but instead of opening the driver side door like Aramis had expected him to, he continued on to the back seat, where he rummaged through a duffle bag before pulling out file folder held together with paper clips.

“This is everything I know,” the older man explained as he made his way around the car to the teen. “I printed out all the info from the police files, but I left out the pictures on some of them. I didn’t think you needed to see those.”

Seeing Aramis’ hesitation, Porthos slowly reached for the teen’s hand and deposited the file in the shaking fingers. “Aramis, I think you already know what’s in here but you need to see it for yourself. Here,” Porthos maneuvered the teen towards a patch of green grass just in the shade of a giant oak. “We’re going to sit here together while you read through it and then we can talk about it.”

Shakily Aramis nodded. Though this was something he desperately wanted, it was also something he dreaded. For years he thought he was crazy, that there something wrong with him, but now he was about to learn that it wasn’t him after all. Everything he saw in his darkest dreams, the sounds and images that haunted him day and night were real and not a fabrication of his fractured mind. 

He jerked back involuntarily as he felt warm hands close around his own. Blinking a few times, he managed to get his eyes to focus. Porthos’ hands had closed around the teen’s shaking white knuckles that were currently clutching the file folder. 

“Breathe Aramis,” the older man encouraged as he helped steady and ground the teen. When Aramis seemed to have calmed down, Porthos moved towards the car to retrieve a plastic bag. Retaking his seat next to the teen, Porthos dug through the contents before pulling out a sandwich. “Am I right to assume you haven’t eaten anything in a while?”

The sheepish smile that appeared on the teen’s face confirmed his assumption and he wordlessly handed over the sandwich and a juice box. The bag had been shoved in his hands by Aramis’ grandmother and she insisted he made sure her René had eaten something when the older man found him. That was a promise easy enough to keep, but one thing at a time.

After eating half of the ham sandwich, though he didn’t ask where Porthos had gotten it, Aramis took a deep breath and opened the file folder to the first page to begin the slow and no doubt painful process of reading the contents. Porthos kept himself busy watching the slow movement of the sun across the sky, noting how the shadow started stretching further and further out, but he kept very still and quiet giving Aramis all the time and concentration he need to complete his task. The teen slowly turned one page after another, never saying anything or making a sound. Every once in a while Porthos caught a glimpse of emotion filter across the boy’s face; sometimes anger, other times sadness and once tears dropped onto his cheek.

“It was all real…” Aramis eventually stated in a hushed voice as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks as he stared at the last page. “I’m not losing my mind, it was all real.” And then the tears of utter sadness took over as he was finally allowed to accept the loss of his entire family, and grieve. 

 

*****  
Athos watched as Constance moved around the kitchen humming a soft melody while she worked to get supper ready. The first day was a little tense for everyone but then Constance and D’Artagnan went about their daily routine, managing a fine balancing act that was keeping Athos included but not being overbearing. Athos like his personal space and for a five year old, was a very independent person. Constance had to control her motherly instincts or else she would always be fussing over him for one thing or another. 

Though Athos missed his little family, he did enjoy this new family dynamic. Constance and D’Artagnan were kind and very accepting, giving him plenty of space to do his own thing but always keeping an eye on him. They could tell that Athos was missing Porthos and Aramis, and the older couple did everything they could think of to keep him busy.

When supper was finally ready, everyone settled around the table.

“Smells great Constance,” D’Artagnan commented as he scooped himself a large helping of the steaming lasagna onto his plate. Realising that Athos was sitting there staring at the plate of the steaming pasta, the older detective put down his plate to pick up Athos’. He noticed the boy shaking slightly. “Here let me get you some.” 

Athos watched the older man pile on a generous helping onto his plate. As the plate was put down in front of him, the delicious smell flooded all his senses. Unable to bear it for much longer, Athos pushed his chair away for the table and ran. He wasn’t sure were to but he just had to get away.

“Athos…” Constance made to go after him, but her husband stopped her.

“I’ll go.”

He had seen the change in the child’s demeanor as he had started serving him dinner. There was just something about the look in his eyes before he all but fled the dinner table, and he had a gut feeling he might have an idea what was going on. He was not really surprised to find the boy hiding in his bedroom closet.

“Hey Athos,” he called out gently just to make sure the boy had heard him enter, “do you mind if I join you?” When he didn’t get a reply, not that he thought he would get one, he crouched down on hands and knees to crawl into the small space, his joints protesting at the awkward movement. 

He glanced at the lump under the blanket at the far end before settling his back against the wall, stretching his legs out as best as he could. D’Artagnan waited patiently, knowing that Athos often needed time to work out his own thoughts and feelings before he was ready to say anything. 

“I’m sorry,” the boy eventually apologised through the blanket.

Frowning, D’Artagnan was slightly confused by the odd statement. “For what?”

“I didn’t eat my dinner.”

Slowly, D’Artagnan reached over to pull the blanket off of Athos’ head. “You have nothing to apologise for. I haven’t eaten my dinner yet either.” He tried to make eye contact with the boy but Athos kept his gaze averted, finding the small thread of the carpet much more interesting. When it was clear the boy wasn’t going to say anything else, D’Artagnan let out a small breathe. 

“You know when I was little, my dad would make the best apple pie you’d ever tasted. I don’t know how he did it, but the crust was always crispy and the apples always perfect.” He glanced sideways, happy to see he had Athos’ attention. “Then when he died, every time I saw apple pie, all I thought of was him. It was hard.”

Athos sat there, still staring at the carpet but he had stopped moving. “Maman used to make me lasagna,” he finally explained. D’Artagnan pulled his legs to his chest, inwardly relived he had been able to easily guess the source of Athos’ troubles. He couldn’t explain it but for some reason he seemed to always have an idea of what Athos’ was thinking, almost like the two seemed to think along the same train of thought.

“It was her favorite,” Athos continued in a small voice as if he was remembering every detail. After a few minutes, the boy seemed to remember where he was, “It just smelled like maman’s and …. It made me sad.”

Moving closer, D’Artagnan wrapped his arms around Athos’ shoulders, hoping to offer him some comfort. He had never heard the boy speak of his mother and he couldn’t recall Porthos ever mentioning it before. He felt honored that this young boy would feel able to confide in him, but at the same his heart broke at the thought of how much Athos’ life got turned on its head when his mother died. He was only slightly surprised when he felt Athos’ small arms tightened around him to return the hug.

Constance sat at the kitchen table alone for what felt like an eternity, wondering what she had said or done that could have sent Athos running. Secretly she envied her husband for the easy bond he seemed to have developed with the boy. She had always wanted children but life seemed to have had a different plan for her and so she contented herself with her work, caring for other people’s sick children. But when Porthos had asked if Athos could stay with them for a few days, she was beside herself with excitement. Athos had kept his distance at first but slowly he had allowed her in his personal space, a small gesture that had meant the world to her. 

It melted her heart when she saw her husband bouncing back into the room, carrying a small giggling child on his shoulders. The two bounced around before making their way to the table, and gently D’Artagnan lowered Athos to his chair before taking a seat himself.

“How about that lasagna?” he husband asked, grinning at the small boy. Though Athos rarely smiled, the corner of his mouth would always betray him to those who got the chance to be accepted in his inner circle.

 

Next chapter:  
http://kaze-chan.deviantart.com/art/New-life-new-family-564872288?ga_submit_new=10%253A1444960638&ga_type=edit&ga_changes=1&ga_recent=1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check back in the next few days for the other half.


	11. Breathe, part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As soon as Aramis’s turned the doorknob, releasing the latch, the door was pushed inwards, sending the teen stumbling backwards, his arms flailing in an attempt to regain his balance. Staring at the stranger in the hallway, it took the teen’s confused mind a few extra seconds to recognize that this wasn’t a stranger at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second half.
> 
> We finally get some answers to some questions, but the drama rollercoaster continues in a new direction; one that you all knew was coming sooner or later.
> 
> I couldn't figure out how to upload a picture so I just posted the URL at the end of the last chapter. Hope you all enjoyed the preview.

From the corner of his eye he could see Aramis gazing unseeing ahead, his brows knitted in concentration and his mind clearly conjuring up something long forgotten.

“What are you thinking?” 

When the tears and the sobbing stopped, and Porthos hoped for good this time, the teen sunk into a calm silent demeanour. The older man was sure the teen was exhausted after such an emotional few days and so had lead the boy back towards the car, fully intending to find a hotel for the night.

“The blue pill,” Aramis finally answered.

Porthos glanced over at the teen slouched in the passenger seat. “What?”

“The blue pill,” Aramis repeated as if that would explain everything. 

“Yeah I heard you the first time,” he clarified as he turned the vehicle out of the driveway onto the main road. “I just need more info than the blue pill.”

“When I was with the foster family, I had to take a blue capsule pill every morning. They told me it was vitamins to help my brain get better after my head wound.” To Porthos’ surprise, his hand didn’t start tracing the thin scar. “None of the other kids had to take one,” he continued, “just me. I didn’t think anything weird about it until the one day I slept in and almost missed the bus. I didn’t have time to eat breakfast so I didn’t take the pill. But then Sarah, the foster mom, came to see me at school as soon as she noticed I hadn’t taken it. She was adamant I take the pill right then and there.” 

Porthos’ knuckles tightened around the steering wheel as he correctly assumed that was the memory suppressant drug from Richelieu’s trial study. So the drug therapy trials had continued after Aramis had left the hospital. “What happened?” he forced his voice to remain even despite his anger.

“Nothing,” the teen continued, his brows knitted in thought as he dredged up old memories trying to piece them together. “I took the pill but I thought it was odd that she came to school to give it to me. Couldn’t it have waited till I got home if it was just vitamins?”

Here he looked over to Porthos, waiting for the older man to answer. The question was loaded with raw emotions. He had the impression that Aramis already knew the answer but needed to hear it said outloud. “If it was just vitamins I would assume it could wait a few hours. Did you ask them?”

Aramis nodded, “They assured me it was just vitamins but the next day I got the feeling they were watching me to make sure I took it. So I didn’t ask about it again and took the blue pill every morning until they stopped watching me; …… then I stopped. I pretended to take it and then at school I would flush it down the toilet. I felt fine at first, but…” he hesitated biting his lower lip, “….. then the nightmares started.”

So as long as Aramis took the pill, his memories would stay repressed, but the second he stopped they all came flooding back to his subconscious in shattered fragments. No wonder he had been doubting his sanity all this time. It must have all seemed real but at the same time not. Porthos knew the teen needed to get everything out once and for all and so he kept his eyes fixed on the road and waited patiently for the teen to continue.

“After a few weeks, the nightmares got so bad that my foster family started to notice. When they realised I wasn’t taking the pills they were angry with me and I didn’t know why.” When he paused again, he seemed genuinely confused trying to understand their actions. “They made an appointment with a Dr Rich..something for the next day but I ran away that night. I don’t know why but I just had this gut feeling telling me to run.”

His voice trailed off and the heavy silence once again filled the small space. “So you just kept running, until I found you.” Porthos finished, reaching a hand over to lightly grip the teens shoulder in comfort. A small but genuine smile appeared on Aramis’ face at the small gesture and he leaned into the warm touch. 

They were halfway back to the small village where Mrs Vallejo lived when something jumped to Porthos’ mind. “Aramis, how old are you?” The question seemed odd but given all the other information that had come to light in recent weeks, there was still one thing that didn’t add up and Porthos was about to test his theory.

Understandably so, Aramis just looked back at the older man slightly confused. 

“Humour me, how old are you?” Porthos asked again.

“17,” the teen answered slowly, not sure where this conversation was heading. “We celebrated my birthday a few weeks before Athos came to live with us, remember?”

“I remember,” the older man assured him, “what year where you born in?” 

These had been questions he had asked the boy when he had first taken him in almost 6 years ago in the early spring of 2010. The boy had said he was 12 then but when Porthos had searched, there had been no missing 12 year olds that match his description, so he had assumed the boy was lying about his age. Now he wasn’t so sure it was a lie.

“1997,” came the reply.

It was Porthos’ turn let out a shaky breathe. “Aramis, you’re 18. You turned 18 months ago.” He watched with apprehension as the teen stared back, confused.

This was a conversation he had hoped could wait till later.

“That blue pill,” he started cautiously, choosing his words carefully, “was a trial drug therapy meant to make people forget traumatic events.” When Aramis kept looking at him, waiting for more information the older man continued, “I think the doctor at the psych hospital you stayed at after what happened with your family was using patients as test subjects.”

Aramis remained silent as he worked to fit this new piece of information with all the other shattered fragments.

“One year….. the files say I was at the hospital for nearly a year and a half but I don’t remember it being that long. It felt more like .. … it was spring and then it was mid-winter…..” His eyes welled up with fresh tears, threatening to spill over once more. “I’m not crazy Porthos.” This time it was a statement and not a question. “I’m not crazy…” 

Aramis didn’t try to hide the new tears. For once they were tears of relief as the last piece of stone was lifted from his shoulders. Porthos would never be able to understand just how much that small piece of information meant to the teen. Many things had circulated in his mind for years, fragments that never made sense, memories that didn’t fit together no matter how hard he tried to rearrange the pieces. He had always felt there was something missing.

Now everything was falling into place effortlessly. One whole year; that’s what had been missing. At the moment Aramis couldn’t care less what he couldn’t remember of that year because it didn’t matter. Just the knowledge that it was a 12 month’s void that fit in the gap suddenly made everything else make sense.

Turning to face the older man, Aramis smiled through the shimmering tears. “Thank you. For taking me in, and for coming to find me.”

Porthos’ heart swelled, “Always.” He gripped Aramis’ shoulder once more not wanting to ever let go. As they fell into a comfortable silence, the conversation he had with Athos a few days ago in the cemetery came to mind and he couldn’t help but to compare the two. Always, he swore silently to himself when he noticed the teen had drifted off the sleep, always. 

The next morning, Porthos told Aramis about his grandmother who still lived in the village and left it up to him if the teen wanted to stop in for a quick visit before heading home. The teen wanted to see his grandmother but it was clear that all this emotional upheaval had taken its toll on the boy’s strength and so in the end Porthos made the decision to head back home and give the teen a few weeks to rest up before the three of them would come back to visit Mrs Vallejo. As promised though, he gave her a quick call while Aramis was in the washrooms to let her know he had found the boy safe and sound and promised to come by for a visit once the teen was feeling better. 

There was no hiding the disappointment from her voice, but she was adamant that Aramis should rest up and was looking forward to finally seeing him. She had waited years to learn he was alive, she could wait a few more weeks, she has stated confidently. 

The drive back was uneventful and they made it to the D’Artagnan’s home in good time. Athos had been overjoyed to see Porthos back and flew into his arms for a hug a soon as the bigger man had made it to the door. Aramis’ welcome back had been a little bit more reserved, which had surprised everyone and slightly saddened the teen. There was no doubt that the boy had missed the teen but he seemed hesitant and unsure.

Aramis had volunteered to tuck Athos in that night, making sure to put extra effort in his reading when the two settled in to read Athos’ book. Slowly, Aramis tilted Athos down onto the pillow and pulled the blankets to his chin when the boy’s eyes started drooping closed and his small frame started tilting to one side.

“Please don’t leave again.”

At first Aramis wasn’t sure he had understood the sleepily mumbled words correctly. Leaning over the sleeping form, Aramis placed a gentle kiss on Athos’ forehead. “I promise.”

******

When a slight knock at the door echoed through the apartment, neither Aramis nor Athos thought anything of it as the teen headed towards the door, a wide charming smile already spreading across his features; Mrs Thompson across the hall often stopped by to give Athos cookies. 

The elderly woman had been enthralled by little Athos and loved to dote on him as if he was her own grand-child. The fact that Athos had been frightened of her at first had only resulted in her doubling her efforts to win the boy’s affection. Now Athos smiled politely and accepted the gifts, making the elderly woman smile with delight.

As soon as Aramis’s turned the doorknob, releasing the latch, the door was pushed inwards, sending the teen stumbling backwards, his arms flailing in an attempt to regain his balance. Staring at the stranger in the hallway, it took the teen’s confused mind a few extra seconds to recognize that this wasn’t a stranger at all.

Gabriel de la Fère strode forwards, closing the door behind him before smiling coldly at the confused teen. ‘Hello there, how nice of you to open up,’’ his low voice echoed through the hall as Aramis regained his footing. 

Aramis could physically feel the colour draining from his face as his brain seemed to freeze in place, effectively gluing his feet to the ground keeping him in place. Once his mind recovered from its initial shock, his thought turned to Athos. There was no way he was going to let this man get his hands on his little brother.

‘’Athos run!’’ though he knew there was nowhere for the boy to go, it was the first thing his mind could think to say before he launched towards the bigger man.

He knew he was no match for the sturdy build of Athos’ father but he also wasn`t going to stand idly by and watch him drag Athos away to who knows where. He had no idea what he was going to do, his only thought was to hold off the older man to give Athos as much time to hide as he could.

With the element of surprise on his side, Aramis managed to land a few good solid hits to de la Fère’s face before the bigger man grabbed him by the arm and effortlessly tossed him into the side wall. The picture frames rattled by the force of the impact and Aramis’ body slid down to the floor in a boneless heap, leaving him momentarily dazed.

‘’You little piece of….’’ Gabriel spat down at the teen as he wiped a trickle of blood from his split lip. He spared a glance at the red smear on the back of his hand before turning his attention back to Aramis, who was currently regaining his focus and pushing himself up on his hands and knees.

Grabbing the teen by the collar of his shirt, Gabriel roughly hauled him to his feet, pinning his back to the wall. ‘’How dare you, ‘’ he growled angrily as he gave the teen another shove.

Aramis tried to pull his shirt out of the strong grip, but the stronger man held tightly. He felt a wave of dizziness as his head hit the back wall but he quickly forced his mind to focus. 

This was the first time he had ever seen Athos’ father, other than that brief appearance in the courtroom, and as the teen studied the face in front of him, all he saw was cruel hatred. His lips were pulled up in a corner in a cruel sneer as if he was enjoying the pain he was inflicting and relished the teen’s feeble attempts of escape. He knew the younger boy could not escape his grip and Aramis felt like a mouse being played with by a cat.

As darks spots started to flood his vision, he was just able to make out Athos as the small child came running down the hall armed with a thick book, one of Aramis’ school manuals. With all his might, Athos barrelled down the hallway towards his father, swinging the heavy book at the man’s side hoping it would be enough to help free Aramis. 

When he had heard Aramis’s cry for him to run, Athos had stayed frozen in place as his father’s deep voice echoed through the home. When he noticed that Aramis was in trouble, he had summoned every ounce of courage and strength he had to charge down the hall to confront his father. Never in his life had he ever fought back against his father. He had found it easier to accept the pain. This way, his father would grow bored with the meek response and leave him be, but this time was different. This time it was someone else who was paying the price and no matter how scared he was, he could not stand by and let someone else take his place.

The blow to the side startled Gabriel, making him loosen his grip on the teen’s collar slightly, but enough to allow the return of normal air flow, which Aramis greedily breathed in in gasps. Glancing to the side, Gabriel caught sight of Athos just as the boy was about to strike a second time. Letting go of the teen, Gabriel turned in time to land a solid blow to the small boy’s left temple, sending the small child flying backwards into a side table. Both the child and the side table scattered to the ground by the force of the impact. 

‘’Is that how you treat your father now a days? You wait your turn runt, I’ll get to you next,’’ the older man snarled as he watched his son curling in on himself on the floor. Gabriel was now beyond angry. 

When the grip holding him up disappeared, Aramis crumpled to the floor in a heap, landing heavily on his stomach as he coughed and gasped trying to refill his lungs with air. He was too focused on this task to notice the kick aimed at him, and could do nothing to prevent the scream that tore through him as pain exploded in his left side. A second kick had him gasping again, black spots threatening to invade his vision. Through the cloud of pain he swore he could hear Athos’ voice, pleading on his behalf, but all Aramis could think of filling his lungs and staying conscious. 

Athos knew his father well enough to know that the one hit wasn’t going to be all, and so he instinctively curled in on himself in an attempt to protect not only his arm but most of his body as well. Aramis’ scream, however, had him flying to his unsteady feet as he realised his father had turned his attention back to the gasping teen. 

Once again, Athos threw himself at his father, though this time with nothing more than his bare fists, as he tried desperately to stop the older man. He watched in horror as Aramis gasped in pain as another well aimed kick found its mark.

“Please stop!!!’’ Athos grabbed hold of his father’s arm trying to pull the older man away. Finally he managed to wedge himself in between his father and the now barely conscious teen on the ground. “I’ll go!! I’ll go! Just stop, please,” he cried desperately.

“You see, now I knew you would start seeing things my way,” Gabriel grinned as he took a step back. In all honesty he never had any intention of attacking the teen, in fact he had waited till the cop was gone before making his move but he wasn’t going to let anyone stand in his way, least of all not a scrawny teenager. The fact that the boy had dared to raise a first at him had just pushed his patience. Either way, he got what he wanted in the end.

“Leave him alone,” Athos pleaded one last time, “please, I’ll do whatever you what, just leave him alone.” He could feel a trickle of blood on his left temple and his cheek stung from the hit but all he could focus on was the sound of Aramis gasping for breath on the floor behind him. Though worried as he was, he didn’t dare take his attention away from his father for one second.

“….. Athos….. no,” Aramis coughed, slightly confused by the coppery taste in his mouth. He spat out a mouthful of blood, his left side searing in pain with every movement. He tried to lift his head but his body was not cooperating like it should be. Finally he managed to wedge his arms under him, fully intending to push himself up.

The white hot pain that resulted from his movements sent him sprawling back to the floor clutching his right side, and coughing up more blood.

The last thing his foggy brain registered was the blurry shape of Athos being dragged away. He could hear the small voice calling out to him, sounding frightened but he had neither the strength nor the energy to answer back as his consciousness slowly slipped away, leaving everything black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off I had to go back and edit his age in my missing person report. I had it all planned out on sticky notes but when I wrote it out, I wrote the report as if it was in 2010 (so 13) instead of 2008 (where he's 11). That's the only thing that has changed. Slight problem with uploading chapters as you go along; thought I have it all planned, I sometimes get confused and make mistakes.


	12. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athos huddled in the corner, trying to ignore his empty stomach while still doing his best to keep his hopes up. He knew Porthos would be out there looking for him but he was starting to wonder if the bigger man would find him in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy holidays to everyone. I've decided to split this chapter in two in order to give you all a new update but I'm hard at work getting the last two chapters done. As always, thank you all for being so patient and I hope you haven't forgotten where we left off.

D’artagnan had barely stopped the car when Porthos threw the passenger door open, and ran towards the emergency room doors. The automatic sliding doors couldn’t open fast enough as he wedged himself through the second the space was big enough. Ignoring all the people sitting in the waiting area, he made a straight line for the nurse’s desk.

“Aramis du Vallon,” he spoke in a near panicked voice. “He was brought in about 20 minutes ago.”

The nurse quickly started typing on her computer. “Are you his next of kin?” She asked not looking up from what she was doing.

“Yes, I’m his legal guarding, Porthos du Vallon.” He was doing his best to keep his voice from shaking or shouting. “Where is he? Can I see him?” 

Porthos and D’Artagnan had been out on a job when Treville called to tell them there had been a break and enter at Porthos’ apartment. He didn`t have too many details yet since he was on his way there, but that a teen boy had been sent by ambulance to the hospital in critical condition. D’Artagnan had dropped Porthos off at the hospital and was on his way to the house to see what happened.

“Sir,” Porthos startled at the voice. As he stared at the nurse it was obvious she had been trying to get his attention for the past few minutes. “A doctor will be down to see you shortly. If you could just take a seat in our waiting area.” She pointed to a small secluded waiting area just off to the side of the general waiting area.

“Is he okay?” Waiting for the doctor to come talk to him was something he had expected but he just needed to know anything about the teen’s condition.

The nurse’s expression warmed slightly. She was a veteran at her job and had seen every and all types of reactions from frantic relatives storming into the emergency room after having received a call.

“He’s being prepped for surgery. Please have a seat and a doctor will be here shortly.” 

He thanked her for the small piece of information, even though it did nothing to calm his growing panic. He pulled out his phone just see if there were any messages from Treville or D’Artagnan, hoping for any small piece of info. 

Aramis was here, but he had still had no word about Athos. The teen had been supposed to meet Athos after the school and the two were then to head home. Since Porthos was working late, the two boys were having supper alone at home till he got back. If Aramis had been attacked at home, then Athos should have been with him.

He hadn’t noticed that as the pit in his stomach grew with every tick of the wall clock, so did his pacing. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to calm himself, and force his mind to stop going back to scenarios that had been plaguing his nightmares for the past months.

Gabriel de la Fère.

There was no proof, and the detective part of him knew he was jumping to conclusions, but his gut feeling was telling him he was right. Who else would force their way into his apartment. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t notice Constance until she reached out to grab his arm.

“D’Artagnan called and told me what happened,’’ she explained, worry etched on her face. “What did the doctor say?”

“No one’s told me anything yet,” he sank into a nearby chair as Constance sat next to him. “I don’t know how he is.”

Constance reached out to take his hand in hers. She had been on the other side of this process many times, and knew how difficult it was for the family members to sit in the waiting area for news. But she had never been the one waiting. 

Thankfully they didn’t have to wait much longer.

“He has two broken ribs, one of which has punctured a lung and caused internal damage. We won’t know the extent of the damage done until the surgery is complete. He also has multiple lacerations and bruises. We also suspect he has a concussion but we’ll have to wait till he wakes up to assess the severity of it.”

It was like a punch to the stomach as Porthos listened to the doctor describe the boy’s injuries, the details leaving him breathless. Though Porthos had the patience of a saint when it came to dealing with both Aramis and Athos’ emotional outbursts, the fact that they had to wait till the surgery was finished to have a better assessment of what they were dealing with was almost more than he thought he could handle. He wanted to see Aramis now, and given everything else that the boy had been forced to go through in the last few days, this recent injury just seemed unfair.

The doctor led them to a different waiting room on a different floor, and once again they had to wait till someone came to give them news. He vaguely understood when Constance told him they were on the recovery floor and Aramis would be brought here once the surgery was completed.

He checked his phone for what felt like the millionth time, hoping to have a message from D’Artagnan about the whereabouts of their youngest family member. In the silence of the waiting room with all the uncertainty, it was easy for his mind to start getting carried away and ramping himself up to panic mode again. 

When the sliding door to the elevator opened some time later and he caught sight of his partner striding their way, he quickly leapt out of the chair Constance had forced him to sit in. D’Artagnan’s face was drawn in a serious line, one that Porthos had seen all too often before.

“Athos?” Though his partner’s body language told him all he needed to know, Porthos needed to hear it outloud.

Slowly shaking his head, D’Artagnan confirmed the younger man’s fears. “We searched the entire place, even outside the building; there’s no sign of him. We did manage to get some images from the CCTV at the entrance of the building.” He handed Porthos a folded piece of paper he had pulled from his pocket.

Constance reached for her husband’s hand as Porthos unfolded the paper. The quality was not the greatest, but anyone could distinctly make out the figure of Gabriel de la Fère dragging Athos out of the building. 

Though Athos didn’t look like he was screaming, it was also very much apparent that he was not going willingly. Porthos sank into the nearest chair, unable to tear his gaze away from the picture he was holding. “I’m going to kill him,” he whispered to no one in particular and neither D’Artagnan nor Constance doubted the other man’s resolve.

“Treville has already issued an Amber Alert and he has every agent searching for any leads. We’ll find him Porthos.” He waited for the other man to acknowledge him. “How’s Aramis?”

D’Artagnan had gotten the chance to speak with the officers who were first on the scene and so had gotten a general idea of the severity of the teen’s injuries.

“He’s still in surgery,” Constance eyed Porthos worriedly. “We’ll know more once the doctor comes to see us.”

Silently, D’Artagnan took a seat next to his partner, trying to offer him as much support as he could. A range of emotions were raging inside him as he watched his partner still staring unfocused at the picture clutched in his hands.

While they waited, the older man had called Captain Treville twice, hoping for any leads that could help in the search for the missing Athos. From the same CCTV, they had managed to get a picture of the possible vehicle he could be using and it seemed like Gabriel de la Fère had been to the apartment building twice in the week when Athos had been staying with him and Constance while Porthos had gone to look for Aramis.

Both times, the man had gone to the door disguised as a security system worker in the pretense of repairing the alarm system, when he was really testing to doors as a possible entry point. On his second visit, he could be seen circling the building, presumably looking for an alternative entry point.

After what seemed like hours, a doctor finally approached the small group, causing Porthos to leap to his feet in anxiety and worry.

“The surgery was a success, and we manage to repair all the internal damage, though the healing process will be long,” the Doctor made sure the man in front of him understood.

“When can I see him,” Porthos had finally let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. It was a weight off his shoulders just knowing the teen was going to survive but he still needed to see the boy for himself.

The doctor led them down the hall to a single room, “He’s still weak and will need to be monitored for the next 48 hours, but you can sit with him for a little while.” 

At this point Porthos didn’t even pretend to hear what the doctor was saying. His full attention was drawn to the shape lying so still on the hospital bed. Slowly, as if in a trans, Porthos approached the bed, the knot in his stomach tightening with every step.

Aramis lay on his back, connected to various machines that beeped and hummed. His right side was covered in purple bruising and his right wrist was in a brace. Fresh bandages covered his upper torso, but deep bruising could already be seen peeking out along his body.

“Mis? Can you hear me?” Porthos reached down to close his hand around the teen’s, carefully squeezing the fingers. “I’m gonna kill him for this Mis. I’m going to find Athos, don’t worry I’ll get him back.” He brushed a few strands of brown curls from the teen’s pale forehead.

He leaned forwards and placed a light kiss on his forehead, noting how cold it was, before making his way to stand next to his partner. D’Artagnan reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, hoping to steady him.

“I’ll stay with him and I’ll call you if anything changes,” Constance offered, as if knowing what Porthos was thinking. “Go find Athos and get this guy.” Porthos nodded, giving her a warm smile in appreciation before turning his gaze back towards the teen.

Though he knew what Aramis would say if the boy was conscious, Porthos had mixed feelings about leaving Aramis alone and injured in a hospital, given all that had happened to him in the past. The last few days of trudging up old memories had been difficult and to be honest, Porthos wasn’t sure how Aramis was going to react when he woke up.

“Don’t let them tie him down, no matter what he does,” he cautioned, hoping Constance would understand to meaning. “And if anything happens call Dr de Larroque.” He gave her the doctor’s phone number. Sparing one last glance at the teen, Porthos now turned his attention to their younger brother. Aramis was safe for the time being and it was high time he got Athos back.

The drive to his apartment was quiet. D’Artagnan once again went over all the information he had received from Captain Treville in order break the tense silence. Porthos was grateful since it gave his mind something to focus on, other than the image of Aramis’ battered body.

There were still many police cars and officers at the scene, collecting evidence and interviewing the other residents in the hopes of getting new information, but Porthos paid little to no attention to all that. He made his way up the stairs to his apartment, D’Artagnan following close behind.

The door was left opened, and officers where currently taking pictures in order to document the evidence. The entry hall was a mess and Porthos made a conscious effort not to notice the blood stain on the floor along the wall, no doubt left by Aramis.

“How is he?” Porthos could easily hear the worry in his Captain’s voice and was quickly reminded of the fact that many people cared about both the teen and Athos.

“He just came out of surgery but the doctors think he should make a full recovery.” Porthos quickly noticed that the rest of the apartment hadn’t been touched. Everything happened in the front hall entrance. “What do we know?”

Captain Treville surveyed his detective but accepted the change of subject. “de la Fère forced his way into the building by holding another tenant at knife point around 4:15pm. From then on we can only assume he made his way to your apartment. The door wasn’t busted in so it seems someone, probably Aramis opened the door. The CCTV shows de la Fère leaving with Athos at 4:36pm.”

While Treville explained what little details they knew, Porthos was only half listening. His attention kept going back to the hallway where police officers were still busy cataloguing the evidence.

“Police and paramedics arrived at the scene at 5:03 once Mrs Mathews, the lady who was forced to open the door called 911 from a café down the street. It wasn’t until 5:20 that they noticed Athos was missing.”

“Do we have a description of the vehicle?” 

Treville ran a hand through his hair, a rare show of emotions, “Dark van, no windows or license plates. Porthos we have every team looking for him. Trust me, he’s not getting out of the city.”

Porthos didn’t doubt the captain’s words, “I’m more worried of what he’ll do once he figures that out.” 

It was no secret that Gabriel de la Fère was a violent man, the scars on Athos’ body were proof of that, and Porthos was more worried of what the man might do once he was cornered. He doubted he would go into custody quietly or willingly hand over his son. The fact that Aramis had been beaten so severely just for being in his way was not lost on anyone.

“Son, why don’t you go back to the hospital and sit with Aramis.” It took a few seconds for Porthos to realise the captain was talking to him. “There’s nothing more anyone can do here and I’ll call you the second we know something new. Athos will need you when we find him so you better get some sleep while you can.”

 

******

 

Athos huddled in the corner, trying to ignore his empty stomach while still doing his best to keep his hopes up. He knew Porthos would be out there looking for him but he was starting to wonder if the bigger man would find him in time.

He closed his eyes and worked to force down the bile that was rising from his stomach. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t erase the image of Aramis lying in a growing pool of blood. After his father had dragged him out of the building, he was shoved into the back of a van and driven away. He had tried the door handle several times but it was locked. 

They had driven through the city streets for some time before the weaving and traffic noises faded away, indicating they were now leaving the busy streets. Athos had no idea where he was being taken and at the moment he hated how helpless he was. 

Despite his rattling nerves, the soft swaying motions of the van soon lulled him into a daze and eventually sleep.

*****

Porthos slumped into the bedside chair, his gaze falling on his brother lying so still in the bed. A glance at his watch told him it was nearly 2 am.

He had arrived to find Constance slumped in a chair at the teen’s bedside and was for ever grateful for her small act of kindness. She had left shortly after he had relayed what little information he knew, and she had promised to return the next morning to take over the long vigil while Porthos continued the search for his youngest charge.

He was exhausted and he knew his captain was right, but he couldn’t help feeling useless. Athos was out there somewhere, probably hurt and scared, and the older man felt like he should be out there looking for him. 

But like d’Artagnan re-explained, at the moment all the other teams where looking into all possible leads and until they reported back, they were no closer in finding where de la Fère might be taking Athos.

“Aramis,” he leaned forwards, taking the teens hand in his, “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I need you to know that I’m going to get him back.” As expected, the only reply was the steady sound of the heart monitor. “It’s not your fault, you know that right? You did everything you could to keep him safe and I don’t blame you.”

Gently, Porthos brushed away the few strands of hair from the teen’s forehead. In all the years he had known the boy, Porthos could counts on only one hand the times he had ever seen Aramis so still. 

Pulling the chair closer, Porthos tried to make himself as comfortable as possible, all the while refusing to let go of the teen’s hand. He had lost one brother today and he wasn’t ready to let another one go. 

Where ever Athos was, he just hoped that the boy hadn’t lost hope.

***

It was almost 7 am when D’Artagnan made his way to Aramis’ hospital room. He had tried Porthos’ cell twice but it had gone straight to voicemail both times. The halls were still quiet but the nurses were already busy doing their morning rounds.

Quietly entering Aramis’ room, he was happy to see Porthos fast asleep in a chair next to the bed with his head resting on the mattress by the teen’s hand. Atleast the older man seemed to have gotten some rest after all, even if his position didn’t look comfortable.

Aramis, on the other hand looked worse this morning than he did last night. The bruises covering his face and torso were now a vivid contrast against the teen’s pale skin. The constant beeping from the machines nearby also added to the somber scene. 

Taking in a deep breath, d’Artagnan headed to Porthos’ side, only now noticing that the other man was also clutching the teen’s hand in his sleep. 

“Porthos,” he gently shook that man’s shoulder, “Porthos wake up.”

Porthos’s head shot up from the mattress as he stared around him in confusion. After blinking the sleep from his eyes, his attention focused on his partner, who had taken a step back.

“Did you find something?”

D’Artagnan was about to answer but his eyes flickered to the unconscious teen. Constance had often told him about times when a patient had been able to hear the voices of his loved ones while they were unconscious, and so he nodded towards the hallway before moving out of the small room.

“There’s been no sighting of the van but they were able to track down the owner. It was rented from a place on the other side of town yesterday morning by a man matching de la Fère’s description. He paid in cash and used a fake name.”

“So dead-end,” Porthos sighed in frustration.

“Not necessarily,” d’Artagnan continued. “The rental shop is a little out of the way from regular traffic and the clerk said the man showed up on foot.”

Porthos thought over the information, “..so you think he may be holding up in that area.”

“It’s the best lead we’ve got so far. We’re going over all known associates in that area looking for anyone he may have been in contact with. He had to get the cash from somewhere; last I checked they don’t pay you in prison.” 

Once Constance arrived looking a little rested, Porthos and d’Artagnan headed to the car rental shop hoping to pick up on any leads that could help them find Athos. The boy had now been missing for a little over 15 hours and Porthos knew better than anyone how crucial the first 24 hours were when they were dealing with missing children.

The clerk at the car rental shop was very cooperative but unfortunately he had little to no new information to give them. A man matching de la Fère’s description showed up yesterday morning to rent the van and paid cash, using a fake name. He had only paid to rent the vehicle for one day, and the clerk was expecting the van back sometime today.

“Did you get any sleep?” 

Porthos nodded slowly as he took a large swig of coffee from his cup. After speaking with the sales clerk, d’Artagnan decided to get them some breakfast while they drove around the area, looking up and down back alleys for the missing van. 

“A little,” though he wasn’t going to say he still felt exhausted.

Porthos’ phone started buzzing and he hurriedly pulled it out of his pocket, nearly spilling his coffee in the process.

“Treville?” There was no mistaking the slight note of desperation in his voice. 

D’Artagnan listened to the one sided conversation, straining to catch any of the Captain’s words through the line. From the corner of his eye he could see Porthos’ facial expression remain absolutely blank, as if he was making an effort to keep all emotions from showing.

“We’re on our way,” he ended the call and turned to face d’Artagnan. “They found the van.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amber Alert -- In Canada, an Amber Alert is issued when police have substantial evidence a child is missing or has been abducted. The alert is then broadcasted immediately on all forms of media, interrupting scheduled programs (TV, radio, social media, alerts on the weather network, and so on...). It is very effective and it is the fastest way to get the information to the public to help locate these missing children quickly.


	13. Help, part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porthos had consciously ignored the tv in the corner showing the news, as every ten minutes or so the Amber alert for Olivier Athos de la Fère would race across the bottom of the screen, a constant reminder that he still didn’t know where his little brother was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done!
> 
> I keep splitting chapters when I realise that they are getting too long. This way, you guys get more regular updates. Anyway, we're getting to the end and I wanted to thank everyone who have been following my story because if it weren't for all of you, I might not have had the motivation to finish it. My family life's about to get a lot busier in the coming days but I promise to continue working on the last chapters and get it up as soon as I can. (They are both planned out and I've mentally written them, now they just need to make to the computer).
> 
> Will they find Athos? Will Aramis be alright? What will Gabriel do?.... what will Porthos do?

Porthos quickly passed on the directions and they drove to their destination in silence. They knew they were in the right area when the parked police cars and yellow tape came into view.

They were in the back parking lot of a strip mall, not far from the rental shop, and the van was the only vehicle aside from the police cars. 

Porthos held his breathe as he crossed the distance towards the van, now surrounded by forensic units cataloguing evidence. As he approached, his mind was instantly consumed with millions of horrific images from passed cases that hadn’t ended well, and for a moment he felt himself getting light headed.

“You okay?” 

D’Artagnan’s firm hand on his shoulder brought him out of his small panic and back to reality. Mentally whipping away the images from his mind, he calmed his breathing before nodding to his partner and moving one shaking foot in front of the other. Treville greeted them halfway, a grim look on his face.

“There’s not much evidence to go on, but if there’s something we’ll find it.” He had teams fanned out across the entire area looking for anything that might help them find the missing boy. “We found this in the van.” 

Porthos took the plastic evidence bag from Treville and studied the contents carefully. It was an older glass bottle with a label and name that Porthos didn’t recognise.

“It’s halothane,” Treville supplied, “it’s a general chemical used as an anesthetic.” 

Porthos nearly dropped the bottle in shock.

“He used this on Athos?” He knew Athos had only cooperated initially to save Aramis but not once had he thought de la Fère would use anything but force to get his son. This presented a whole new level of danger for Athos if they didn’t find him soon. And to the detective part of Porthos’ brain, this also meant they were dealing with a well-planned kidnapping instead of a heat of the moment incident. 

“He can only assume so. The contents look like it was spilled in the back of the van.” Treville took the evidence bag back and handed it to a passing officer. “I have officers tracking down the manufacturer to see how a man like Gabriel de la Fère could buy something like this.”

“Is there anything else we can use?” While the Captain and Porthos had been talking, D’Artagnan had gone to inspect the inside of the van, noticing with dismay that the entire vehicle looked spotless. Either de la Fère had thoroughly cleaned the inside or he had not been in the vehicle for that long. To cross town would only take him about 30 minutes and so de la Fère could have had a second vehicle waiting here in the parking lot. 

“We’ve found nothing else other than the bottle so far.”

Porthos took in a slow breath, willing his heart and his mind to stop racing. It was hard enough to concentrate on the information at hand when all he kept seeing when he closed his eyes were images of Athos’ unconscious body lying somewhere. He mentally forced himself to tune out his partner and his captain, and try to look at the scene like he would any other crime scene. If he was going to help Athos, he needed to stay focused on what was in front of him.

It was in the moment of determination that his mind was able to zero in on something. “What’s that smell?”

Both D’Artagnan and Treville stopped their conversation to look at him. “What?”

“There something’s that’s tickling my nose. I thought it was just allergies at first but…” Since he had arrived, Porthos nose had been tingling but he had put it aside as allergies, since the surrounding area was overgrown with wild weeds. But now, it just seemed odd. He and D’Artagnan had been driving around the area all morning and his allergies hadn’t bothered him at all.

“The dog units should be here shortly to help with the search,” Treville explained not sure he smelled what his detective smelled. “Maybe they’ll be able to zero in on the scent.”

Porthos nodded, still not sure what it meant but he hoped beyond hope that it would be some kind of lead. D’Artagnan and Porthos idled around the crime scene, staying out of the way the best they could to allow the officers to do their job. The dog units arrived and the handlers set them to work immediately, fanning out in the surrounding bush area. This particular parking lot was isolated and surrounding by overgrown land. It was the perfect place to ditch a vehicle at night and not be seen.

Porthos placed a quick call the Constance, hoping to get some good news about Aramis’ condition but there was no change. Aramis still hadn’t woken up, though he was holding his own and Constance once again promised to call should anything change.

The two detectives watch as the dogs zigg-zagged through the parking lot and the overgrowth in an otherwise unrecognisable pattern. Unfortunately, that’s all the dogs seemed to be doing. Not once had they left the surrounding area but always coming back to the van.

“They’re not finding any trail scent,” D’Artagnan finally voiced what the other man had been thinking.

After a few more minutes, one of the handlers called the captain over to an area just left of the parking lot. D’Artagnan and Porthos both rushed behind their Captain, anticipation building. 

A crime scene officer arrived at the same time and all four stood in a circle staring down at what the dog handler had found. Amidst the tall grass, lay another abandoned canister, this one different than the previously found glass bottle. With rubber gloves, the crime scene officer bent down to pick up the canister, turning the container over the read the label. 

“It’s pepper spray,” he informed the group. “The bottle’s empty.”

“It must have been sprayed all over the area, which is why the dogs seem to be having a hard time getting a scent trail.”

Porthos ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Just when he thought they were going to get answers or maybe a lead, they got another dead end.

“Damn it,” he swore under his breathe, unable to keep his emotions under control. This whole experience was an emotional roller coaster and he was reaching his limit. Once again they had no leads or even a remote idea of where Athos was.

D’Artagnan placed a calming hand on his partners shoulder, “We’ll find him.” He did his best to sound reassuring, though he understood his friend’s frustration all too well. 

“I just hope it’s not too late.”

**

Constance spent most of the morning sitting by Aramis’ bedside. Though the chair wasn’t the most comfortable of furniture pieces, she was determined to be by the teen’s side the moment he started to wake. 

Being a nurse came with its emotional difficulties and challenges, having to tend to sick or injured people on a daily basis. But when it was someone you loved and cared about lying unconscious in the hospital bed, his flesh grossly discoloured by deep bruising, it was an entirely different matter.

Aramis hadn’t moved an inch, a stark contrast to the normal charming youth who smiled easily and never seemed to sit still. The slow rise and fall of his chest and the constant beeping of the heart monitor assured her that he was in fact just sleeping.

When Porthos called shortly after lunch, she wished she had good news to share, anything to give the other man hope but there was still no change. Though the fact that the teen was still unconscious this long after surgery was a little worrying due to the head wound, she did her best to reassure Porthos that it was just Aramis’ body’s way of protecting itself in order to better heal. It wasn’t that much of a lie seeing as the teen had been through a great emotional ordeal just days before.

She must have fallen asleep at one point, because she was jolted awake by something some time later. At first she wasn’t sure what had startled her, Aramis’ still slept and the machines kept up their constant rhythm. 

But then Aramis’ eye lid twitched and the heart monitor gave a small spike.

She was out of the chair and holding the teen’s hand in a second. “Aramis,..” she quietly questioned, her attention focused on her patient, “can you hear me? It’s Constance. Come on now Aramis open your eyes for me.” 

Her years of training took over and she quietly tried to coax the teen the full consciousness. In the background she could hear the increasing rhythm of the heart monitor as Aramis’ seemed to be coming around, his eyes darting around behind his still closed eyelids.

His breathing also increased as he became more restless, still trapped in that void between awake and unconsciousness.

“Aramis..” she tried a little more forcefully, hoping he could hear her voice through the fog of pain he must surely be navigating.

“Por favor, no….” Aramis attempted to move away for her, only to be stopped by the pain in his side. 

“Aramis, sweetheart it’s alright. It’s Constance…” By this time his heart rate reached a new high, causing alarms to sound alerting the on staff. Nurses came rushing in attempting to help stabilise the teen, but the extra hands holding him down just seemed to send the boy in to more of a panic, his arms and legs nearly thrashing. 

It was clear the teen was not entirely awake, and Constance quickly placed her other hand on the teen’s cheek. “Aramis, escuche me por favor. Calma.”

Hearing his native tongue seemed to have the desired effect and she held tightly onto his hand as his tired body sunk back onto the hospital mattress, all the fight leaving him. She sent up a silent thank you for that career’s teacher who had insisted she take that one class of first year Spanish she had always though useless.

“Aramis,…” she tried again stroking the now sweaty hair from his face. Though his eyes were still closed and his breathing was very laboured, he did turn his head in the direction of her voice.

“….cons…tance…” It was barely a whisper and she felt his hand tighten around hers.

Tears of joy fell down her face as she kept stroking the side of his face, being ever mindful of the bruises and cuts. “You had us a little worried there. Can you open your eyes for me?” 

The other nurses had taken a step back, realising that their presence had been the catalyst for the teen’s panic attack. They moved about the perimeter of the room, readjusting the monitors and checking vitals all the while giving Constance space.

Slowly, Aramis managed to peel his eye lids open, the effort it was causing him evident in his quickly draining strength. He blinked a few times before his gaze locked on Constance’s. 

“….’thos?” 

She wasn’t sure if he meant Prothos or Athos but she figured it was a safe bet to assume he would be asking about both. “It’s alright Porthos’ is taking care of Athos and they’ll both be here when you wake up again.”

She hoped to be telling him the truth. He held her gaze a second longer before his eyes began to drift shut again. “Sleep now, I’ll be here with you.” In a matter of seconds his breathing and his heart rate returned to their normal rhythm.

She sank back into the unconfortable chair, her own energy now draining from her body. She had expected some panic from Aramis and Porthos had warned her, but it hadn’t fully prepared her for the pure fear she saw in his eyes as he held her hand for dear life. She decided to let herself calm down a bit before calling Porthos with the update.

**

D’Artagnan and Porthos sat slumped at their desk. Around them the hustle and bustle of the police station continued, with some officers still hard at work going through all possible leads in order to find Athos. D’Artagnan had seen the emotional toll the day had taken on his partner and so he had suggested the two return to headquarters to see what other information the other teams had been able to find.

His spirits did brightened when Constance called to let him know that Aramis had woken briefly before slipping back into unconsciousness. The way the rest of the day had gone, they certainly thanked God for that small sign.

After having spent 15 minutes studying the board of gathered information, they were no closer to knowing where Gabriel de la Fère might have taken the boy and Porthos was growing more anxious as every hour passed without a break through.

Porthos had consciously ignored the tv in the corner showing the news, as every ten minutes or so the Amber alert for Olivier Athos de la Fère would race across the bottom of the screen, a constant reminder that he still didn’t know where his little brother was.

D’Artagnan was on his fifth trip to their break room to refill his coffee mug when a familiar figure caught his attention.

Milady de Winter smiled as she saw him approaching, but the smile never reached her eyes.

“By the look on your face, I’m guessing there’s been no new development in the case?” She asked innocently, feigning disinterest.

D’Artagnan wasn’t fooled. “Why are you here Anne?” Though he knew it wasn’t entirely her fault Athos had been kidnapped, he still couldn’t quite overlook the role she had played in de la Fère’s release.

She stepped closer as to not be over heard. “Listen, we all get paid to do our jobs. How was I supposed to know he was going to take the kid.” All lightness was gone from her voice. “Here,” she handed him a folded piece of paper, “a few days before his court date, he asked me to buy him a bus ticket to get him to this subdivision.”

D’Artagnan stared at the address scribbled on the folded piece of paper. This was the breakthrough they had been hoping for; a possible lead as to where Gabriel de la Fère might have taken Athos. The subdivision wasn’t too far in distance from where the rental shop was located as well as where the rental van had been discovered. 

“Thank you Milady,” D’Artagnan was nearly at a loss for words.

“Just don’t mention my name anywhere,” she answered offhanded as she turned to leave. “You didn’t hear it from me.” And with that she was gone leaving D’Artagnan standing there alone with the folded paper in one hand and his empty coffee cup in the other.

As he raced back to his desk, he through a quick apologies over his shoulder to the two officers he had nearly knocked to the ground. He swept past Porthos and skidded to a halt in front of the giant pin board where they had centralized all the information they had gathered so far. 

“What’s up?” Porthos had gotten to his feet, sensing his partner’s shift in mood.

D’Artagnan quickly scanned the map, looking for the subdivision that Milady had given him. 

“There,” he pointed looking back towards Porthos, “That’s where he’s taken Athos.”

Porthos’ eyes grew in recognition as he read the name on the folded piece of paper. Pulling open his desk draw with such speed that D’Artagnan was surprise the contents hadn’t spilled out, he quickly pulled out a manila file folder that the older man instantly recognised. Porthos riffled through the papers before pulling out a sheet.

He stared at it for a moment before pinning it in the same area where D’Artagnan was pointing. 

“Athos inherited his grandparent’s old farm house from his mother when she died. Gabriel de la Fère, as his guardian, had been the trusty of the property until Athos turns 18.” The page showed the legal description of the property and picture of the house. “ I don’t think anyone is living there right now.”

“That’s where he’s taken him then,” the older detective finished. Though by road the distance between the discovery of the van and the old property was quite far, there was a train track line that ran between the two areas, a straight line that would allow de la Fère to drag Athos along without being seen or drawing attention.

With renewed hope, they informed Captain Treville of this new information, D’Artagnan being careful not to reveal the original source of this new lead and within the half hour, three tactical response teams where geared up and on their way to the property, with D’Artagnan and Porthos following close behind.

The drive was tense and the darkening skies only added to the somber atmosphere. They couldn’t risk sending in a scouting team and risk alerting de la Fère since that had no real way of knowing what he would do to Athos. The brutality of the attack on Aramis the day before led them to believe he could harm the boy if he thought he was cornered with no other options.

This was on the forefront of Porthos’ thoughts as D’Artagnan weaved through the narrowing streets towards the farm house. The convey came to a stop a few blocks away and all the team leads gathered together as the rest waited near the still vehicles.

“Team 2 will sweep around the south side while team1 will be coming in from the north.” Treville waited till his team leads nodded their understanding. “Myself, D’Artagnan and Porthos will come up to the front of the house. Gentlemen our first priority is to retrieve the boy. It is our belief that de la Fère may use the boy as a shield in order to protect himself and so be careful if you approach him.”

Porthos swallowed around the lump in his throat at the thought of Athos being used like a human shield or a bargaining chip. 

“All teams radio in when you are in position around the perimeter,” Treville watched as his police officers disappeared into the night. “Porthos are you ready?”

The Captain watched his detective closely as the younger man strapped on his bullet proof vest. There had been a silent agreement that Porthos would be with the leading team though Treville did wonder if it was a good idea, depending on what they would find at the house.

“I’m ready,” Porthos answered, his resolve and voice unwavering. D’Artagnan grasped his partner by the shoulder in a sign of comfort and the trio started down the road, carefully picking their way in the darkness.

They hadn’t walked very far before the silhouette of an old farm house came into view. All the team leads had already reported they were in position and that there were some signs of movement within the building. They couldn’t confirm if it was de la Fère or not but Porthos had no doubts in his mind that Athos was in there.

Silently, Porthos and Treville crept towards the front door while D’Artagnan made his way around the building. Porthos winced with every sound of the floor boards as he and the Captain made their way slowly up the porch stairs. 

Though the windows were boarded up, small flickers of light could be seen through the cracks. Treville leaned towards one of the windows while Porthos made his way to the far side of the porch to look through another window, hoping to get a glimpse of either their target or his youngest brother. 

They needed to have an idea of where Athos was being kept and where Gabriel was if they had any hope of rescuing the boy without further endangering him. 

Through the window where Porthos was, he had clear sight of the living room and the hall way leading towards the back, and what he assumed must be the kitchen. Candles were lit, the wax having melted them in place on an old wooden crate, bathing the whole interior of the room in an eerie dim light. Littered around the floor were beer bottles and other fast food wrappers. There was definitely someone living here and from the looks of the accumulated garbage, it matched the time in which Gabriel had been out of prison.

But despite the abandoned food, there was no movement. Porthos glanced at his Captain, the former shaking his head telling the younger man that he too saw no one. He was about to move to another window, when a faint noise caught his attention. 

Frantically, he swept the length of the room once more trying to locate the source of the sound. His attention was drawn to the ceiling as faint footsteps could be heard echoing through the otherwise silent home. Someone was upstairs.

Porthos signaled to his Captain, and Treville nodded in understanding. If Gabriel de la Fère was upstairs, then perhaps they could find a way to enter on the ground level without him noticing. It was a gamble but so far it was the best plan they had. 

As quietly as he could, Porthos made his way towards another window further down. This window led into the kitchen and from his vantage point, he could D’Artagnan’s silhouette in the small window of the backdoor. He made his way to the edge of the porch to signal his partner and let him know there was someone upstairs.

Jumping over the rail, Porthos landed on the soft earth with more grace than anyone would have thought possible for a man his size. In a few strides, he was by his partner’s side.

The back door looked battered and old, and Porthos eyed with a small grin. He could pick this lock with his eyes closed.

“Captain,” Porthos tapped his radio com, “the back door could easily be an entry point without drawing attention.”

The line was silent for a few seconds. Both D’Artagnan and Porthos nearly jumped as movement caught their attention. Treville had crept around the other side of the house, joining his two officers at the back of the house.

Treville peered into the back window, noticing that the kitchen unlike the rest of the floor was plunged in darkness; Gabriel had clearly not seen the need to light candles in the area of the house. 

“Alright,” he agreed, “move quietly and silently. I’ll wait at the front door in case he decides to leave that way. The other two teams should be here in minutes.”

Porthos pulled a lock pick from his pocket and within seconds they could hear the lock slide open with a soft click and the door swung open. The two pulled out the guns and held them at the ready, before silently sweeping into the small kitchen. 

The footsteps were louder once inside, but they still came from the upstairs and so, slowly, the two men made their way through the kitchen and then the hallway towards the bottom of the stairs.

Porthos’ eyes scanned every inch of every room he passed, hoping to catch a glimpse of Athos but he knew if Gabriel was upstairs, than that’s where they were most likely to find the small boy as well. 

With a nod to D’Artagnan, he started up the stairs, doing his best to distribute his weight as evenly as possible in order to prevent the floor boards from creaking his feet. He was nearly half way up the stairs when one particular board groaned under his foot, stopping him in his tracks as he held his breathe.

It was in this silence that he noticed he couldn’t hear the footsteps anymore. Crouching down and pointing his gun to the top of the stair case, Porthos pushed forwards his steps not nearly as careful as they had been.

At the top of the stairs, he turned left towards an open door which flooded the hallway in a ray of candle light. He didn’t wait for his partner since he knew that the other man would be watching his back.

“You better stop right there or there won’t be much of the boy left to save.” The deep voice rang out, sending shivers down Porthos’ spin. It was Gabriel’s voice and it was coming from the room right in front of him. Ignoring the threat, Porthos made the extra two steps to have a view inside the room.

By the far wall, Gabriel stood holding Athos up in front of him by the collar of his shirt and holding a gun to the side of the boy’s head.

But that wasn’t what had made Porthos breathe catch in his throat. 

Athos looked like dead weight. His feet were underneath him but they didn’t look like they were really supporting his weight, and his head seemed to loll to the side as Gabriel shifted his hold while the boy’s eyes didn’t seem to be focused on anything in particular. 

Something was wrong.


	14. Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Throwing caution to the wind, Porthos raced forward as the gunshot echoed through the house, mixing with his own scream and creating a deafening sound that pierced the silent night. He watched in horror as Athos limp body dropped to the ground as if in slow motion, just out of his reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here, the moment you've all been waiting for; Porthos v. Gabriel de la Fère. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Athos looked like dead weight. His feet were underneath him, but they didn’t look like they were really supporting his weight, and his head seemed to loll to the side as Gabriel shifted his hold while the boy’s eyes never seem to be focused on anything in particular. 

Something was wrong

Porthos heart sunk at the sight of Athos, and he lowered his gun ever so slightly in the hopes of not forcing the man to do something drastic. Athos had yet to make any indications that he had registered his arrival, or the fact that he was being held up right by his shirt collar. After having lived with Athos for a total of three months now, the fact that the boy didn’t seem alert was ten times more worrying than the gun pointed to his temple.

“Athos,” Porthos stopped his feet from taking a step forward as he instinctually called out to the boy.

Gabriel tightened his hold, pressing the gun to his son’s head in response as Athos’ eyes slowly lifted at the sound of his name. Porthos watched as his eyes strained to focus on him, noticing the dialated pupils.

“Stay right where you are,” Gabriel sneered, “You have no right to be here, he’s my son.” 

Porthos clenched his knuckles in anger, the joints turning white around the handle of the gun still clutched in his hand. Every fiber in his body wanted to charge forward and take Athos from that man’s grip by force, but he knew this was a very delicate situation. Any misstep on his part could be dangerous for Athos. 

“Now, put your gun down and why don’t you just back away slowly.” Gabriel growled as he eyed Porthos, his own hand clenching nervously around his gun.

Porthos swallowed thickly, weighing his options. He focused his attention again on Athos. Though slightly glazed, he was happy to see the pale blue eyes had finally managed to focus on him. He wasn’t sure, however, if Athos had registered who it was, a thought that brought him little comfort. If he charged at Gabriel, he doubted Athos would be able to move on his own to get to safety. 

Noticing the tension in Gabriel’s shoulders, Porthos switched gears, calling on all his police training to try and diffuse the situation as he held his own gun to the side in surrender. “Okay, let’s talk about this.”

“There ain’t nothing to talk about.” Gabriel growled. “You cops are all just trying to get what’s mine.”

Porthos forced his attention away from Athos and back to the man who was holding the gun to the boy’s head. It took all his focus not to turn to the soft sound of a footstep behind him. He knew from years of partnership that D’Artagnan was slowly making his way down the hallway in their direction and the last thing he wanted to do was to give Gabriel any indication that he was not alone.

“Why don’t you just let the boy go,” Porthos tried to reason, shifting his weight slightly to cover more of the doorway, obstructing the hallway to allow his partner more cover. “He hasn’t done anything.”

Gabriel actually laughed; a sickening sound that resounded in the empty house and send shivers down Porthos’ spine. “He hasn’t done anything? The little bastard stole a fortune from me!” He shook his son for emphases, the boy’s body swaying nearly lifeless in the other man’s grasp. “His good for nothing mother left him everything! That fortune was mine and she left it all to him!”

Porthos was vaguely aware of his partner moving behind him to his right, his footsteps fading away as he could only assume the other man had turned into the other bedroom. 

“Easy now.” Porthos continued talking, hoping to give his partner time. At the moment Porthos couldn’t think of a way out of this. His only thought was to keep Gabriel distracted long enough to maybe give D’Artagnan or Treville a window of opurtunity.

“I told you to put the gun down.” Gabriel nearly yelled, making both Porthos and Athos flinch.

Once he was sure D’Artagnan was out of the line of sight, Porthos nodded and slowly bent down to place his gun by his right foot.

“Is the boy’s life really worth the money?” Porthos knew he should be referring to Athos as Gabriel’s son, his training telling him to indulge in the man’s beliefs to keep him calm. But Porthos found that he just simply couldn’t acknowledge that Gabriel was anyone’s father; the man didn’t deserve the title. “Just let him go, and maybe we can sort this out.”

Porthos took a small tentative step forward, keeping his eyes on the man in front of him for any movement while keeping his arms up to his side in the most none threatening manner he could manage, despite his size. The gun had yet to move from its position, pressed tightly against Athos’ temple and Gabriel’s movement had gotten more and more desperate.

In response to Porthos’ movement, Gabriel quickly turned the gun towards the man infront of him, pulling Athos in closer to him as if fearing the boy would make a run for it. “Stay where you are buddy, I ain’t in the mood to talk.” 

Porthos froze mid step, fully aware that the man facing him wouldn’t think twice about shooting him. Though the situation was not much improved, at least he had managed to get Gabriel to take the gun away from Athos. He would much rather get shot himself than have the boy suffer any more than he already has.

He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the searing pain that would accompany the gun shot. “Gabriel, this can only end one way and you know it.” He watched as the other man shifted anxiously, no doubt weighing his own options, and giving Porthos a little bit more courage. “If you kill me or him, you’re going to jail.”

At this Gabriel grinned again, a sickening sight that made Porthos’ stomach churn as he realised he had misspoke. “At this point, I go back to jail either way, may as well go down with a bang.” Slowly, he turned the gun back on Athos.

Porthos watched in horror as he registered Gabriel’s intentions, a little too late.

“NNOOOO!!!”

******

D’Artagnan had frozen in his steps when he heard voices filtering through the hallway. Porthos had turned left while he had gone the other way in order to search as many rooms as they could, and as quickly as they could. Obviously, the other man had found their target first.

Peering cautiously out from the bedroom he had been searching, D’Artagnan could see Porthos’ back as the other man stood in the doorway of one of the bedroom on the far side of the hallway. Moving as quietly as he could, the elder detective crept along the hallway, his attention focused on his partner’s back as he moved, his gun still draw at the ready to offer back up.

As he got closer, he could make out most of the conversation. 

“There ain’t nothing to talk about. You cops are all just trying to get what’s mine.” Gabriel growled. 

Nearly halfway across the hall, a loose board creaked in protest under his weight, causing him to freeze in his steps. Porthos’ shoulder’s tensed slightly but then relaxed, and D’Artagnan has happy to see the other man moving his body to block more of the doorway, obviously giving him more cover to move.

From the sound of the voices, it seemed that Gabriel was in the bedroom near the far end facing Porthos. There was no way D’Artagnan could get a shot past his partner without the risk of being seen by Gabriel, and he had no other way of getting inside the bedroom, not to mention he still didn’t know where Athos was.

Glancing to his right, D’Artagnan noticed an open window in the side bedroom, the one just adjacent to where Gabriel was. Remembering the wrap around porch, D’Artagnan changed directions, and quietly snuck into the side bedroom, hoping his hunch was right. 

He knew Treville was downstairs, but there was no way of letting their Captain know what was happening without making some noise. He couldn’t risk Gabriel hearing him even if he whispered over the radios and so he had to rely on the Captain’s senior experience. 

D’Artagnan let out a sigh of relief as he peered out the window and saw the roof of the porch. It stretched out to both sides and he could see the light from the next bedroom to his left. He tentatively tested the strength of the aged wood with one foot before dropping out of the window, crouching low to distribute as much of his weight as possible. He hoped the roof would hold his weight but contented himself with the thought that if he did fall through, it might serve as a distraction for Porthos to make a move.

Though only a few feet away, it felt like precious minutes where ticking by for D’Artagnan; minutes he knew they didn’t have. He had to move slowly, fully aware that any second the roof could collapse under his feet, but he also had to move quickly judging from the shift in the tone and conversation that filtered through the thin walls. 

Finally he made it to the window, taking only a fraction of a second to take in a deep breath and ready his gun. Peering into the room, he could see Gabriel clutching Athos by the shirt collar while aiming his gun at Porthos’ chest. 

The window gave him a view from Gabriel’s left side. Unfortunately, the man was right handed and so he was clutching Athos tightly to his body with his left hand, taking away any clear line of shot. He also noticed that Porthos no longer had his gun; the weapon instead was on the ground barely a step behind him.

Damn. This wasn’t looking good.

“At this point, I go back to jail either way, may as well go down with a bang.” Gabriel’s calm voice filtered through the thin glass, before D’Artagnan noticed the gun turning towards Athos.

In that millisecond, D’Artagnan saw an opening and took aim. As Gabriel turned the gun towards Athos, he pulled the boy’s limp body away from his own, giving the detective a very limited clear shot. If he missed he could hit Athos but it was clear Gabriel would certainly not miss.

He aimed his gun and sent up a quick prayer before squeezing the trigger.

******

Throwing caution to the wind, Porthos raced forward as the gunshot echoed through the house, mixing with his own scream and creating a deafening sound that pierced the silent night. He watched in horror as Athos limp body dropped to the ground as if in slow motion, just out of his reach. 

In two strides he was crouched by Athos’ side, Gabriel de la Fère completely forgotten as he carefully turned the small body with shaking hands, being careful to cradle his head as it lolled to the side. 

“Athos…” Porthos ran a shaking hand over the boy, looking for any sign of life. Finally noticing there was no blood anywhere, Porthos managed to take a deep breathe, allowing his stomach to ease only slightly as his mind worked to make sense of it.

Pale blue eyes were staring back at him, but once again they didn’t seem to be able to focus properly. The soft click of a barrel of a gun instantly caught Porthos’ attention. 

Looking up to where Gabriel was still standing, he cursed himself for having completely forgotten about the man, and Porthos was only slightly surprised to see the gun was once again pointed straight at him. 

Gabriel swayed dangerously, but his aim didn’t falter. Porthos’ attention was pulled to the growing red stain on his left side, his arm hanging down uselessly by the man’s side. He was pale but his eyes were full of hatred as he stared down at both Porthos and Athos. 

Porthos barely had anytime to really process what was happening before pulling Athos in closer, hoping to shield the boy as much as possible, knowing fully well he would gladly take a bullet for his youngest brother.

He crunched his eyes shut and clutched onto to Athos, his own heart beat pounding in his ears as he waited for what seemed like hours for Gabriel to pull the trigger.

He flinched as a second gunshot rang out through the house, followed by a dull thud not far from his feet.

For a moment he felt numb, the small rise and fall of Athos’ chest against his the only thing grounding him. It took his mind a little longer to register the hand on his shoulder shaking him.

“Porthos!” The familiar voice kept calling out to him. “Porthos, open your eyes. Are you hit?”

Unable to ignore the voice of his Captain, Porthos obeyed albite slowly. Still keeping a tight hold on Athos, Porthos pulled back while mentally testing his limbs and body for any signs of pain.

“Porthos,” Treville tried again, his voice thick with worry, “are you alright?” 

The younger detective nodded, before turning his attention to where Gabriel was standing over him just moments ago, his brow knitting in slight confusion.

The man was now slumped to the ground, red blood spreading in a pool underneath his body as his ice cold eyes stared off in the distance unseeing.

Gabriel de la Fère was dead.

Treville watched as his young detective seemed to be taking in the scene around him, slightly confused. After having relayed the information with the other two teams, and requesting an ambulance to be waiting near the cars, Captain Treville had made his way inside the home in order to secure the ground floor and see if he could unlock the front door, in order to give the teams another entry point.

His heart dropped when he heard the first gunshot mixed with Porthos’ screams, and he had raced up the stairs, taking two at a time in his haste. Holding out his gun, he made it to the top just as Gabriel had leveled his gun to Porthos’ head as the man was kneeling on the ground, Athos’ small body clutched tightly in his arms.

His instinct took over instantly as he drew his gun and fired, hitting Gabriel square in the chest. He let out a breath of relief as he watched the man slump to the ground, the gun falling from his lifeless grasp.

When Porthos didn’t move, Treville raced forwards, his heart beating hard against his chest as he started to fear he may have been too late. He momentarily wondered where D’Artagnan was but at the moment Porthos and Athos where his top priority.

Sparing a glance at Gabriel to make sure the man really was dead, he turned his attention to Porthos, noticing how the man was slumped over Athos, shielding him with his own body.

It took a few tries but finally, Porthos looked up, meeting his Captain’s worried gaze with one of surprise. Treville finally felt the tight band around his heart loosen, and he let out a deep sigh of relief.

That moment of relief was quickly washed away when his gaze fell to Athos’ limp body in Porthos’s arms, the bigger man’s size making Athos look much smaller and paler than he should be.

Porthos attention had also gone back to the small boy in his arms, instantly noticing his eyes had slid shut. “Athos,” he called gently while stroking the boy’s cheek. “Athos, come on wake up.” 

His skin felt cold and clammy under his fingers and for a fleeting moment, Porthos did think he had failed his brother after all. When he got no response, he tried again doubling his efforts all the while doing his best to keep his rising panic at bay.

He was vaguely aware of Treville and D’Artagnan talking in the background, only catching words as the two spoke urgently above his head.

His gut instinct had told him from the start that there was something wrong, and now as he cradled the unresponsive boy in his arms he knew he had been right. Tapping his cheek again, he was finally rewarded with the fluttering of eyelashes.

“That’s it Athos,” he encouraged softly, “Open your eyes for me.”

It took a lot longer than it should have, but eventually the pale blue eyes opened and turned towards Porthos’ face, the dilated pupils making Athos seem much younger.

“Por…thos…”

Porthos felt a few tears sliding down his cheek, but he didn’t want to let go of his brother in order the wipe them away. “Yeah little brother, I got you.” 

Porthos watched as Athos blinked a few times, noting the lagging response time and the weak movements. 

Athos swallowed thickly, his gaze slipping to the side before willing his eyes to focus once again on Porthos’ face. He struggled to get his mind and his body to cooperate, but finally he managed to get the one word out that his mind could latch onto.

“….Mis?”

Porthos could see Athos struggling to remain conscious; clearly his concern for Aramis outweighing whatever he was fighting.

“He’s alright,” Porthos hoped he wasn’t lying, only now realising he hadn’t heard anything since Constance called earlier. “He’s going to be happy to see you.”

The older man watched his little brother register the words spoken, before nodding weakly seconds before his eye rolled back and he slumped into unconsciousness.

“Athos!!!” 

D’Artagnan was by his side in seconds, forcing the bigger man the let go of the boy as he lay him flat on the ground, checking his vitals.

“Tell them to hurry damn it!!” The older detective yelled down the hallway, which Porthos had only realised was filled with activity as the other two teams were searching the rest of the home.

Paramedics came bursting into the small bedroom, medical gear trailing behind them, and quickly set to work in a flurry of activity around Athos’ prone figure. 

“Porthos,” Treville was gently pulling at his elbow. “Give them room to work.” Though his tone was gentle and soft, there was no hiding how worried he was. Without taking his gaze off Athos, Porthos allowed himself to be pulled away by his Captain and his partner, to allow the medics more room to work.

The paramedics work quickly and efficiently, assessing their patient and occasionally asking the trio questions about the boy’s medical history, leaving Porthos more anxious as the seconds ticked by.

Athos hadn’t moved an inch as they placed the neck brace and the oxygen mask, before strapping the small boy to the back board and whisking him away to the waiting ambulance.

Without a word, D’Artagnan led Porthos to the car and drove as fast as he could behind the ambulance. The silence was crushing, but there were no words of comfort he could offer the other man, at least not until they knew what was wrong with Athos. 

For the second time in the last 48 hours, Porthos raced into the emergency room frantic for any piece of information about his brother’s condition. He had arrived just in time to see the medical team disappear in a side room with Athos.

The two nearly jumped when D’Artagnan’s phone started buzzing and he stepped away from the busy ER room to take the call, leaving Porthos to pace alone with only his thoughts to keep him company.

His hands were shaking by his side and the big man wanted nothing else than to punch a hole through something. 

He was angry. 

How could the system fail someone like Athos by allowing his father his freedom. The man had had Athos for a little more than 24 hours and here he was lying unconscious in the ER with who knows what injury.

“It’s children’s cough syrup.” D’Artagnan yelled as he came running back, startling Prothos and a few nearby nurses. “Treville just called and he said they found bottles of the stuff in the house.”

D’Artagnan ran past Porthos straight to the nurse’s desk. Pulling out his badge, he pointed to the exam room where Athos was being treated. From where Porthos still stood, he couldn’t make out what his partner was telling the clerk, but he had a general idea, the urgency of his words apparent to everyone who had turned to see him run past. 

Athos’ chances had just increased tenfold now that they knew what Gabriel had done. Suddenly all the symptoms made sense. On the surveillance camera, he had seen Athos alert and fighting his father and he was sure Athos would have been looking for any opportunity to make a run for it once they had driven away from the apartment.

But when he had found Athos at the house, the weak and lethargic boy had been the completely opposite of what he had been expecting. Gabriel must have known his son would not have cooperated willingly once Aramis was out of danger, and so he had first knocked him out with halothane and then keep him drugged with cough syrup.

Cough syrup had enough medication in it to keep Athos dazed and compliant, his small body easily overwhelmed by the drugs, but depending on how much was used, it could also be fatal. 

Like a wave reaching its breaking point, Porthos legs threatened to give out on him, the adrenaline slowly leaving his body as he sunk into a nearby chair. At some point D’Artagnan had returned, but if his partner had said anything, Porthos hadn’t heard. He stared fixedly on the closed doors, willing his little brother to keep fighting and not to give up.

“Detective du Vallon?” 

Portho’s attention snapped towards the voice, his gaze falling on a doctor who stood just a few feet away, a clip board in his hands and a serious expression on his face. He motioned for the two to follow him, as he led them down the hallway to a more private waiting room.

“We pumped his stomach and gave him an IV line to help replenish his fluids.” The doctor explained. “Though he hasn’t been exposed to it for very long, there’s no telling how much he was forced to consume. We’ll monitor him and keep an eye out for any organ damage that may have resulted.”

“Is he awake?” 

The doctor shook his head slightly, “No, unfortunately the drug in question is known to cause drowsiness. When he does wake up though, we expect his body to go through some sort of withdrawal; the symptoms being anywhere from slight dizziness to nausea.” 

Porthos let out a breath. He had gone through the whole withdrawal thing with Aramis when the teen had first started living with him, and so he knew what he was in for, but it broke his heart at the thought of someone as little as Athos having to go through that kind of ordeal.

The doctor led them down the hall to another room. When he walked into the room, the sight nearly made his heart stop. Athos was lying in a hospital bed, his skin a greyish color, with an IV line down his arm and surrounded by the same type of machines, beeping and buzzing, that currently kept Aramis company one floor up.

Taking in a deep breath, Porthos made his way to the bedside, pulling one of Athos’ hands in his and carefully brushing some of his hair from his forehead. He wanted to check on Aramis but couldn’t force himself to leave Athos just yet, still not entirely convinced the whole ordeal was over.

Sinking into a chair, Porthos promised to check on the teen in a few minutes, giving himself sometime to process everything that had happened in the last two hours.

***

The few days following were a blur of memories for Porthos. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, but he was determined to be there for both Athos and Aramis. 

Aramis had woken a few times, but was never conscious long and never remembered having woken previously, a side effect of the concussion. This meant that each time Aramis regained consciousness he needed someone there to calm him down from his panic attack. Thankfully, each time he woke also meant he was more alert, which the doctors all agreed was a very promising sign.

Athos on the other hand, woke randomly and each time found him emptying his stomach until the dry heaves brought tears to his eyes. Each bout of nausea left the boy pale and breathless before he would fall asleep again out of sheer exhaustion, his small body weakened by his ordeal. 

Between the two, Porthos found it hardest to be with Athos, the small boy clearly feeling miserable yet the doctors where hesitant about giving him any medication, fearing his body was already over taxed. Finally Constance convinced him to go home to shower and get a change of clothes, promising to stay with Aramis while D’Artagnan stood watch over Athos.

Porthos stood in the hallway of his apartment, the rest of the rooms still bathed in darkness. This was the first time he had been back since the police officers released the crime scene, having finished they’re investigation, and the thought of Aramis lying bleeding to death just a foot away from where he stood sent shivers down his spine. He had almost lost both of them. He still might.

All the emotions and fear he had been pushing aside for the past days came rushing forwards like a dam finally breaking loose, leaving him sobbing tears of every emotion possible alone in his apartment. After what felt like hours, he had run out of tears and so just sat there by the door, not sure if his legs would support him if he tried to stand.

Gathering his strength, Porthos pushed himself up and wiped his cheeks dry with his sleeve. Though he still felt exhausted, he knew he had somewhere else that he needed to be; his brothers needed him and he was more determined than ever to see them though. 

Aramis was alive and Athos was safe. And he would always be there for them, no matter what.

*****

Aramis woke to the same background noise that had been filtering through his subconscious. The constant beeping and buzzing now seemed to be a permanent fixture in his dreams, and Aramis worked to pin point the source, something he knew he should recognise. As he became more alert, the sound seemed to intensify, sending him into a slight panic.

“Sshhh, Aramis,” a gentle voice soothed as he felt a warm hand stroking his cheek. “Open your eyes.”

It took some time, but slowly he managed to open his eyes, his gaze focusing on the face leaning over him, just off to his left.

A tired smile pulled at the bruises on his face, as his eyes drifted shup once again. “…Constance.”

“That’s right,” she half laughed, “you’re getting better at this.”

Aramis frowned slightly confused before vague flashes of other times he woke to seeing Constance be his side, easily concluding that this was by far the first time he had work his way through the dense fog that clouded his mind.

“..how long,” he paused mid-sentence when he noticed he couldn’t move his right arm. Looking down at his left wrist he could see the brace and remember all too well the beaten he had received but that didn’t explain the weight he felt on his other side.

As if hearing his inner thoughts, Constance nodded slightly with her head to his other side. “He refused to leave your side once he saw you.”

Instead of answering his question, her remark just added more to his confusion. Taking in a deep breathe, he work up the energy to turn his head to his right to see what she was taking about. The small movement sent spikes of pain through his temple, making him hiss in pain as he shut his eyes. He could feel Constance’ hand on his shoulders, grounding him, and he allowed her soothing words to help calm his breathing before opening his eyes again.

He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what he saw. There on the bed curled tightly against his right side, clutching his arm in a death grip even in sleep, lay Athos. The boy’s forehead was pressed against his shoulder, and his small body was practically lying on his arm along his side.

Tears of relief trickled down his cheek as he kept his gaze on the mop of brown hair, wishing to be able to have a better view of the small face.

“..Thos,” his voiced cracked.

“Porthos thought you two would be happier being closer together,” Constance explained, pulling Aramis’ attention to the snoring man further down his right side, near his knee. He could only see parts of Porthos, since Athos was in the way, but he could see the older man had his head resting on the bed near his right knee and he could feel Porthos’ tight grip on his right hand, even though the limb was hidden from view.

Aramis felt safe; something he had accepted he might never feel again. But as he lay there watching his two brothers sleeping, all the anxiety and self-doubt just melted away. Porthos had, for years, told him how much he loved and cared about him, and Athos had done the same in the few months they had known each other, but Aramis had never fully allowed himself to believe them to be entirely truthful. 

But in that moment, he realised this was home; with Porthos and Athos. 

He watched the steady rise and fall of Athos’ chest until his eyes started to drift shut. He fell into a peaceful sleep, the all too familiar warmth and weight of Athos’ small body against him, and the steady grip of Porthos’ hand in his a comforting presence he could never really express in words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go. Though I wanted (like all of you) to have Porthos beat the tar out of Gabriel, there's a reason I went this route. One more chapter to tie up loose ends and hope to give you all an ending that is befitting this roller-coaster ride.


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He watched as Athos shifted his weight from foot to foot, his uncertainty rolling off of him in waves. Though he couldn’t see his face, he could just imagine the boy was chewing on his lower lip like he often did.
> 
> “I know he wasn’t a very nice man, ….”Athos finally spoke. “I hate him, and I was always scared of him… but,” he trailed off, his voice cracking slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is at last, the last chapter.
> 
> Sorry for the long delay, these past months have just been very busy. But I finally found the time to give this last chapter the attention it deserved. I hope I tied up all the loose ends and gave you all an ending you'll enjoy; my way of thanking everyone who took the time to read my story.
> 
> A special thank you to Khentkawes; I think I was as eager to read your comments as you were to read the new chapters. I enjoyed hearing your thoughts and knowing that my story was hitting your heartstrings in much the same way it hit mine. 
> 
> I have an idea for a prequel to this, though it will only be 1 chapter, so keep an eye out for that. And hopefully I'll find the time to flesh out all the other ideas I have for fanfictions (the reception this story received is certainly encouraging my creative spirit).
> 
> Thank you all once again,  
> Kaze

Porthos watched as a few raindrops left perfect dark circles on the tombstones around them. The sky was overcast and threatened to pour at any moment, but he hoped if they had any luck at all, it would hold off for just a few more minutes. He turned his attention back to Athos, as the boy was kneeling down by his mother’s grave, the bottom of his black pants slightly muddy.

He was here for Athos, he kept reminding himself. A sideways glance towards Aramis told him the teen was thinking the same thing.

It had been two weeks since Gabriel de la Fère had beaten Aramis and kidnapped Athos, and now here they were at the man’s funeral. Porthos frowned at the thought, but again, he reminded himself that he was here for Athos and not necessarily to pay his respects to a man the world was better off without.

It was Athos who wanted a funeral for his father, and despite his hatred for the man, Porthos could not deny the boy his wish, though he still didn’t fully understand why. Aramis had been the more vocal with his opinion but in the end, it was Ninon who encouraged them to follow Athos’ wishes.

She stood on Aramis’ other side, dressed in black like they all were according to tradition, watching Athos closely. She had told them that despite what Gabriel had done in recent years, he was still Athos’ father and to the five year old’s mind, that meant a lot, but more importantly, this was a way for Athos to be able to put the past to rest and move on, something she pointed out, Aramis should be able to understand.

Athos stood up and retook his place between Porthos and D’Artagnan, the older man resting a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder as the priest continued. After the body had been released, he had been cremated and they had planned a small simple funeral once both Aramis and Athos were released from the hospital.

Not surprising to those there, no one else attended.

After the final prayer, the small group started to disband, hoping to reach the cars before the rain started. D’Artagnan hooked his arm under Aramis’ good shoulder and helped the teen back towards the cars, knowing it would take him the longest to cover the distance due to his injuries, and he wanted to give Porthos and Athos some time alone. 

“I’ll help you,” Constance easily took the teens other side, helping to steady the now swaying boy, while being mindful of his injured side. Though Aramis claimed he was fine, the small walk there had taken more out of him than he wanted to admit and he was forced to either accept their help or fall.

Athos hadn’t moved as the group started to shuffle around him, his eyes still fixed on the new engraving on the tombstone and his brow furrowed in thought. Ninon gave his shoulder a small squeeze on her way past and nodded to Porthos as the man waited nearby.

They hadn’t had the chance to talk about what had happened and lately Porthos was having a hard time reading the boy’s expression. Not really sure how to bring it up, they stood in silence by the tombstone as the rest of the group made their way to the parking lot.

“I don’t blame anyone,” Athos broke the silence, his ability to cut straight to the heart of things slightly startling. “I’m just glad that you didn’t have to…. to do it.”

Athos couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence but he knew Porthos understood what he meant.

Athos couldn’t remember much between the time he got into the van and waking up in the hospital, and even the first few days in hospital where a blurr of headaches and dizziness. Even now his stomach churned at the memory. But once the drugs had left his system, and he had been able to think clearly, Athos had spent hours going over what he knew and what others had told him. He knew that Porthos had come to save him and had been ready to shoot his father to do so, but in the end it was the older detective and the Captain that had stopped Gabriel.

He had been relieved to know Porthos hadn’t been forced to kill him, but a small part of him feared that Porthos would hate him somehow; that the older detective might always be remembered of what happened to Aramis every time he looked at him.

Porthos let out a sigh, grateful to finally hear what Athos was thinking, but there was still a stiffness to the boy’s stance that told him there was something else on his mind. He waited patiently in silence, knowing from experience the best way to get him to talk was to give the time and space.

He watched as Athos shifted his weight from foot to foot, his uncertainty rolling off of him in waves. Though he couldn’t see his face, he could just imagine the boy was chewing on his lower lip like he often did.

“I know he wasn’t a very nice man, ….”Athos finally spoke. “I hate him, and I was always scared of him… but,” he trailed off, his voice cracking slightly.

Porthos took a step closer, wrapping his arms around the smaller shoulder in comfort. “You’re father’s dead, and it makes you sad,” he finished out loud, finally understanding what was eating away at his little brother.

All of a sudden, the whole idea of having a funeral the man made sense. This had nothing to do with Gabriel de la Fère. This was the only way Athos knew how to honor his father, despite how the man had treated him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more supportive before.” He could feel the small tremors coursing through Athos’ shoulders. “It’s okay to be sad Athos, he was your father,” he quietly explained, hoping to help to boy make sense of his feelings.

Porthos had never known his own father but had always wondered what kind of man he was. His mother never spoke of him, and as a boy he would often lay awake at night imagining an image of his father.

Fresh tears dripped down Athos’ cheek while distant thunder rumbled over the city, the weather showing the turmoil that Athos was feeling inside. “I have no other family now,” his voice was barely a whisper. “I’m an orphan……. ”

And there it was; the one thing that had being gnawing away at the boy since he learned of his father’s death. It was a feeling Porthos understood all too well, he himself remembered the exact day he realised he was an orphan. 

He waited until Athos calmed, allowing the boy to speak his mind and say out loud all the things he’d been pushing down. Aramis had tried his best to lock away these emotions, but learned the hard way there was no dam strong enough to ever hold them back forever.

“You’re not alone Athos,” Porthos spoke slowly making sure the boy was listening to ever word, spoken and un-spoken. “You’ll never be alone. You will always have me and Aramis. We’re your family. Don’t ever forget that.”

He could tell Athos was thinking it over by the way his small shoulders squared off and his body stilled under his hands.

Thunder rumbled in the distant, a reminder of the coming storm, as Porthos waited for the boy to make any kind of movement.

Finally, he turned towards the older man wiping the fresh tears from his eyes, his small face still pale from his ordeal but his eyes glistening with life. 

“Let’s go home.”

****

“And just sign here, here and here, and that’s it.” 

Aramis studied the papers on the desk for a few seconds before picking up the pen, weighing it in his right hand. The attorney made it sound so simple as he stacked the papers in front of the teen. 

Aramis had always believed that René d’Herblay had died that same day along with the rest of his family, which was why he had sought out a new name when he ran away. His name was the only thing left linking him back to the nightmare he had endured, and it had felt completely hollowed out and lost. Now, with everything that had happened, he knew it was time to put it all to rest.

Glancing up to Porthos, he felt a surge of confidence as the older man smiled down at him. Thank goodness for Porthos; his constant source of strength and courage.

Porthos watched Aramis hesitate slightly. For six years, he had watched Aramis struggle with his demons never really sure how best to help him when he hit rock bottom. When the teen looked up to meet his eye, he saw a spark in them that he had never seen before and it warmed his heart. He had only ever known Aramis but in that moment he saw René, the little boy full of life before that night.

Despite the dull ache in his still healing wrist, Aramis steadied his hand and signed his name, his real name.

As soon as the pen left the paper, René D’Herblay was no longer a missing person, no longer a mentally unstable individual, and no longer a ward of the state. He was finally free.

Dropping the pen back to the desk felt like he was letting go of everything that had weighed him down. It had been Porthos’ idea to close the missing person’s report; the older man logically explaining that since the teen was now of age, he was officially out of Child Protective Services and legally able to make his own decisions.

Athos reached for Aramis’ hand. “Do we call you René now?” he asked with a small grin.

Though Athos still looked a little pale, he was definitely making strides in his recovery, both physically and emotionally. After their release from the hospital, Porthos had had his hands full helping both of them, but the older man had not once complained, nor would he ever.

They knew some wounds would never truly heal or disappear, but with the help of Ninon they would hopefully just be old scars that maybe, just maybe, could fade with time.

****

The next few months passed quickly, and before they knew it a whole year had passed, the three of them becoming a family in every sense of the word. With some of Athos’ inheritance, they had bought a house not far from D’Artagnan and Constance, the apartment a source of too many bad memories for them to stay there, a fact that became apparent when both Athos and Aramis jumped every time someone knocked at the door.

Porthos carefully placed the grocery bags on the kitchen counter, before digging through his coat pockets to find his buzzing cell phone. 

“Hello abuela,” Porthos greeted warmly. He started unpacking the groceries while he spoke. “Yup, everything’s ready for Saturday…… Yes. Athos and Aramis will be very surprised……. Alright see you tomorrow.” 

He closed his phone and shoved it back in his pocket, a huge smile still plastered on his face and feeling like he was a kid himself just thinking about the surprise birthday party he had planned for both his brothers. They were celebrating Aramis' missed birthday as well as all the ones Athos had been denied. He had cake, balloons and everyone was invited, including Mrs Vallejo, Aramis’ maternal grandmother.

When things had settled, Porthos had kept his promise and they had all made the trip back to Savoy to visit her, the reunion between Aramis and his abuela had left them all in tears. Afterwards, she had easily wormed her way into their hearts and instantly became their honorary grandmother, as she insisted they all call her abuela, the Spanish word for grandmother.

She was a breath of fresh air after all the drama they had weathered, and she doted proudly on each of them as if they were all her own; spending hours reading with Athos, nights awake on the phone with Aramis, and spoiling Porthos with pastries to the point he was sure his pants would be too small. 

Closing the fridge door, Porthos shoved the reusable bags in the hall cabinet with the rest. The house wasn’t that big but it was a new home for all of them. He had never stayed in a house for more than a few months growing up, and so he relished the thought of being a homeowner. 

They each had a hand in decorating and furnishing their new house, their different tastes evident in the mix assembling of tables and chairs, but Porthos loved it. It made the house home.

But of all the material things in the house, the staircase hallway held their most prized possessions, visible to everyone as they went up or down the stairs.

The first frame to be nailed up were Aramis’ signed legal documents, ending his old life and giving him a new start as Aramis René d’Herblay du Vallon. The second frame to be added were Athos’ adoption papers, officially making him their little brother and no longer an orphan. Next came Aramis’ acceptance letter to the paramedic program, a very high achievement for someone who nearly didn’t graduate high school.

Along the way, pictures had been added of their families, past and present. There was a picture of the d’Herblay’s where Aramis looked about 6, and a picture of the de la Fère’s, the fact that Gabriel was in it always made Porthos scowl but it was Athos’ family at one point. 

There was a picture of D’Artagnan and Constance that Aramis took one day at the park, and one of abuela he had taken when she had come to visit. There was also a picture of Athos sitting on a bench in the garden beside Ninon, reading to her. 

A few months after everything was over and done with, Ninon had retired. All her patients were referred to another psychiatrist but Athos refused to see anyone else, stating that Ninon was more than just his head doctor, as he explained. As a compromise, Athos had started seeing his new doctor once a month, but would spend every Sunday afternoon visiting Ninon at the old age home where she had moved. He kept her company and most nurses assumed she was his grandmother, a notion neither Athos nor Ninon ever corrected. 

She was a very career driven woman and never had time to marry or have children of her own. Though she saw many children through the years, making it her life mission to help as many of them as she could, she had never crossed the line between professional and personal, until she met Athos. She had once told Porthos that she was ready to retire early but there was just something about the boy that had reached her deeper than any other one of her patients, and she could not turn them away, even if it had meant putting off her well-earned retirement.

Despite the variety of picture frames, Porthos couldn’t help but notice all the empty spaces, just waiting to be filled with more memories and achievements.

Once upstairs he headed towards the far bedroom. The door was ajar and the closed curtains kept the afternoon sun out, leaving the room shrouded in darkness. As he stepped into the bedroom, he made his way towards the curtains, making a small amount of noise on purpose so as not to startle the sleeping figure.

“Aramis,” he called while he pulled open one of the curtains to let some of the light in. “Mis’, come on your going to be late.”

Aramis groaned and burrowed further under the covers, doing his best to block out the offending light.

Porthos laughed half heatedly at his brother, but knew just how tired the boy was. His week was filled with classes and seminars, and what little free time he had was spent at work or studying. When Aramis did make it home, he was exhausted beyond compare.

“Aramis,” Porthos called again, making sure he could be heard through the bundle of blankets. “Are you still planning to pick up Athos or shall I go.”

It took a few seconds for Aramis to register what Porthos had said, but when he did the blankets flew off and he sprang to his feet, steadying himself on the nearby night stand as his body was still adjusting to the change in altitude.

Aramis blinked as few times, wiping the sleep from his eyes to better see the time on the alarm clock. A small smile pulled at the corners of Porthos mouth at the sight of the boy, no-- young man he corrected mentally. 

When Aramis had first come to live with him, he was pale and gaunt, his ribcage evidence of days without proper food or shelter. Porthos had watched as he struggled both mentally and physically to pull himself together. Now, Aramis was just as tall as himself, his frame still thin but healthy and stronger, the hollow eyes replaced by bright brown orbs. No, Aramis wasn’t a boy anymore.

“Relax, you still have time to take a shower and get dressed,” Porthos offered before patting Aramis’ shoulder on his way out, amused by his brother dishevelled appearance. By the time he made down the stairs, he could hear the water in the shower start.

He stopped to scratch the neck of Athos’ grey tabby, Mittens. She purred loudly and stretched out in her cat bed basking in the afternoon sun, a bed Athos had insisted they buy for her. Porthos could easily remember the day they picked her up.

He pulled the door open and stepped in behind Athos. Their ears were instantly filled with different pitches of barking and meowing as a young woman greeted them with a warm smile.

When Aramis started college, his class schedule was so full that he now spent most of his time at school, occasionaly sleeping at a friend’s who lived closer to the campus, but it left the house silent and Porthos could see how much it affected their little brother, though he never admitted it so as not to hurt Aramis’ feelings. During the day everything was fine because they were busy with their day to day lives, but at night Athos really missed his brother’s presence. 

And so when Athos told Porthos that he had always wanted a cat, the older man took it as a sign, and the two went down to the local animal shelter to adopt a feline friend to keep him company.

The young woman brought them to a room where a caged off area was filled with kittens playing and running. Porthos watched as a large smile spread across the small boy’s face, and he raced up to the cage to see them. As Athos stuck his fingers between the bars many of the small kittens stopped what they were doing and began piling over top of each other to reach his fingers.

Athos giggled as the little kittens soon went back to running around. He watched them, studying each and every one trying to decide which one he was going to take home with him.

“This could take a while,” Porthos told the girl. She nodded and told them to come to the front once they had made their decision. Porthos leaned against the wall and took out his cell phone to check his e-mails in order to pass the time, trying not to make Athos feel rushed. 

It couldn’t have been long, but when Porthos looked up from his phone to check on Athos’ progress, the boy was nowhere to be seen. Porthos pulled himself to his full height, the panic starting in the pit of his stomach as his eyes scanned the small room for his little brother. 

There was an open door leading to an adjacent room off to the side and Porthos made it to the door in two strides. He visibly relaxed when he found his missing brother standing by a row of cages.

“Athos, …” he took a second to catch his breath. “Athos you can’t just take off like that.”

Athos looked towards him meeting his eye for just a second before turning back towards the cage, continuing to pet the animal inside.

“This one,” Athos declared. “I want this one.”

Crouching down beside Athos so he could see inside the cage, Porthos studied the grey tabby as it purred contently into Athos’ hand.

“Athos, this cat is 11 years old,” Porthos read the information card on the top left. “Are you sure you don’t want a baby cat? A kitten?

“No, I want this one.”

Porthos’ eyebrows creased a little, trying to understand what Athos was thinking. He had never owned a cat but he knew they didn’t generally live passed 15, and so this cat was already near the end of its life.

“Everyone takes the kittens,” Athos explained, as if sensing Porthos’ confusion. “Nobody wants these older cats. They look so sad because all they want is a happy home too but no one takes them home.”

Porthos smiled. What Athos lacked in size, he certainly made up for it in heart. 

He looked back at the grey tabby, and then at the other adult cats in the cages nearby. They lacked the energy and enthusiasm of the kittens and instead lounged around in disinterest, the pain of being abandoned by their owners evident in some of their eyes.

“I know she’s already pretty old, but she deserve a nice new home.”

Those words would stick with him for the rest of his life. 

Everyone deserved a second chance.

A new home.

A new life.

A new family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, any typos or errors are my own and I do not own the characters, simply borrowed them for my roller-coaster ride of emotional drama.


End file.
